


Close Protection Officer

by lisaof9



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 109,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisaof9/pseuds/lisaof9
Summary: The NCIS team search for a criminal who is after one of their own. Ziva is charged with keeping Abby safe, but the close quarters reveal the attraction they have each been hiding from the other. Meanwhile, a second case puts Ziva in the middle of a deadly plot. Angst, but always a happy ending!
Relationships: Ziva David/Abby Sciuto
Comments: 32
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a fan fiction story written solely for the entertainment of the readers. All characters are the property of Donald Bellisario Productions and CBS.  
 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/  
 **BETAS:** I want to thank the wonderful Betas who helped edit my errors, Danyelle, pocketnympho, Jessie, and Mammothluv who helped make my writing more polished with great suggestions and corrections.  
 **SPOILERS:** Ziva never dated the Mossad agent, Tony never killed the man, and Ziva's father isn't quite the monster he turned out to be on the show.  
 **ARCHIVING:** Only with the permission of the author.

**CHAPTER ONE**

All that kept going through Abby Sciuto's mind was that Gibbs was out of town. Gibbs was out of town, and she was in trouble. She wondered why trouble had a way of finding her when she was simply minding her own business.

Abby left work Saturday afternoon wanting adventure. Adventure on a lazy Saturday was a great idea because there would be no calls to the lab with Gibbs gone. Not such a great idea if that adventure ended up involving trouble.

She spent part of her day catching up on paperwork, which she hated, but that needed to be finished. With the paperwork happily completed, Abby had intended to celebrate with adventure. Now, she had adventure. Adventure and trouble, and Leroy Jethro Gibbs was out of town.

It started out so well. Abby had gone to _the Black Orchid_ , a club known for its eclectic crowd and pumping dance music, and now she was definitely in trouble. Big trouble, huge trouble, in two words, Gibbs trouble.

Abby only had two drinks. They were wussie drinks, bottled hard lemonade. Technically, only one and a half wussie drinks. Halfway through her second lemonade she had started to feel "off." Off, in Abby's forensic experience, was never a good thing. It was a bad thing, and frequently, it was a very bad thing. And Gibbs was out of town.

So, Abby did the only thing she could think of; she marched up to Bear, the club bouncer who really did look like a rather large bear, and grabbed him.

Bear smiled warmly at the vibrant woman who usually stayed until closing. "Abby, leavin' early?"

Abby leaned as close to him as she could in the thick crowd. "Bear, someone roofied me," she said as she gripped his arm in one hand. The other hand was holding her half finished drink bottle, which was now evidence.

His eyes widened and he nodded to Freddy, the doorman, before moving Abby away from the crowd. "You sure?" he asked, concern evident. He knew how dangerous Rohypnol or other date rape drugs could be.

Abby raised both eyebrows in response and then placed her drink on an empty table. "Evidence," she said as a wave of dizziness washed over her. "Do not leave me alone," she ordered. She grabbed her cell phone and quickly sent a text message.

"You need to sit down," Bear said as he guided her into a chair. He waved over a coworker, a waitress named Cat. "Someone slipped her something," he said quickly.

"Want some water, sweetie?" Cat asked as she knelt in front of Abby. Like Bear, Cat looked a bit like her namesake. Her green eyes gave her features a feline quality.

Bear nodded. "Get her an unopened bottle of water," he said quickly. "Hurry."

"If I pass out, call 911." Abby leaned forward and rested her head in both hands.

"I won't leave your side," Bear said gently. He saw Cat run through the crowd and get a bottle from the bartender.

Cat made her way back through the crowd and showed Abby the unopened bottle, then opened it and handed it to the dizzy young woman. "Drink. It'll help."

Abby nodded, knowing the waitress was right, and took a huge swallow of water.

* * *

Gibbs was out of town for the weekend. That meant no new cases. That meant a bored Ziva David. A bored Ziva David was not a good thing. Ziva knew this fact, so she found projects around the house. Her current project was stripping down and cleaning four rifles from the back of her closet. Three of the rifles weren't even legal in the United States.

Her cell phone beeped and she pulled the message up. She was running for the door as soon as she saw Abby's message.

"911. DRUGGED. BLACK ORCHID CLUB 18 TH ST."

Ziva's red mini cooper sped through the DC streets in a blur. She dialed Abby's number as she blazed through a red light. Ziva lived off of Irving Street, only about two miles away. Unfortunately, the streets were designed before the Revolutionary War, with one way streets, 25 mile an hour speed limits, and frequent detours. That meant the two-mile trip usually took just over ten minutes. Ziva planned on arriving in less than five, less than four if she ignored every red light and went against traffic on a few rarely traveled streets.

* * *

Abby heard the phone ring but it sounded far away. She glanced at the table and struggled to answer. Her hands wouldn't work and she knew she didn't have long. "Ziva?" she asked groggily.

"Abby, listen to me very carefully. Stay with other people. Tell the management what is going on. Do not leave with anyone." Ziva was close to panicking, something that was unfamiliar to the trained agent. She was terrified Abby would be carried off by some attacker.

"Done and done. Hurry." Abby's words were slurred.

"Give the phone to whoever you are with," Ziva ordered. She could tell Abby didn't have long. There was pause and the sound of the phone being handled.

"Hello?" Bear asked.

"This is Officer David with NCIS, who am I speaking with?" Ziva sounded calm despite her pounding pulse.

"Uh, Bear. I'm the bouncer." He cleared his throat. "Abby doesn't look too hot."

"Well, Mister Bear, I am a mile away and I am putting _you_ in charge of Abby's safety," Ziva said dangerously.

"Okay," Bear said slowly. Something in the woman's tone made him want to stand at attention.

"Put your hand around Abby's bicep. Now," Ziva ordered.

"Okay," Bear said as he gently took Abby's arm. "Got her."

"If your hand isn't on her arm when I get there, I will not be happy," Ziva said.

Bear swallowed hard. He had faced down more drunken patrons than he could count and never batted an eye. His instincts never failed him. He could sense danger and always knew when to call a fellow bouncer for back up. The woman on the phone scared him. "Yes, ma'am." He moved closer to Abby and handed her the phone.

"Ziva?" Abby was having trouble seeing.

"Hang on. I am almost there." Ziva's chest felt as if there was a steel band ratcheting tighter with each breath. "Stay with me."

"I'd like that," Abby said with a lazy grin. The drug was taking hold and her moods shifted like an autumn breeze. "Gibbs is out of town," she said, suddenly grouchy. "What's up with that?"

"Well, I am here," Ziva assured her coworker. She was not surprised when a patrol car pulled in behind her after she ran her third red light. She didn't even slow down. "Abby, I need to hang up for a minute. Stay with Mister Bear."

"Uh!" Abby stared at her phone, clearly offended. She looked up at Bear. "Gibbs is out of town and now my Ziva hung up on me." She sighed and leaned against his side.

Ziva dialed 911 with one hand as she continued along the street. As usual, she took command. "This Officer Ziva David, NCIS. I'm traveling southwest on Columbia road in route to a crime scene. We just passed 13th street. Notify the patrol unit currently behind me. Tell him to flash his lights off and on to signal me and then follow me to the scene."

She answered a few rapid questions and rattled off her ID number and there was brief pause as the two vehicles raced through the city while the dispatcher verified Ziva's identity and then the car behind her signaled. She increased her speed and tried to calm her breathing. Abby was smart. She wouldn't leave with anyone. Mister Bear would not leave Abby's side, of that Ziva was certain. She had put the fear of God into him, or at least, the fear of Ziva.

The crowd gathered outside the club was used to seeing police cars rushing through the Washington DC streets. They were not used to seeing red mini coopers take corners with tires squealing and practically on two wheels. They scurried onto the sidewalk as the mini cooper slid to a stop ten feet from the club's front door and a very scary, angry woman leapt from the car.

"Move!" Ziva ordered as she held her badge in one hand and her Sig Sauer P228 in the other. She glanced over her shoulder at the police officer as he quickly climbed out of his patrol car and looked around with a confused look. "Crowd control," she ordered gruffly.

"Oh, shit," Freddy the doorman said as he backed up. The woman plowing through the crowd obviously knew how to use the gun in her hand and she looked like she'd enjoy doing just that.

"Abby Sciuto?" Ziva asked, holstering her weapon.

The doorman pointed inside and pressed his back to the wall. "Holy crap," he whispered. The woman was hot, and dangerous, which somehow made her even hotter.

Ziva spotted the forensic tech almost immediately. She moved through the room quickly and knelt in front of her. "Abby?" She put her left hand on Abby's wrist, finding her pulse weak and thready. Her right hand gently cupped Abby's jaw.

"My Ziva!" Abby's grin was loopy and she appeared well past drunk. She looked up at Bear and snickered. "That's my Ziva."

Bear smiled, but didn't want to say anything that might anger the newcomer.

Abby smiled up at Bear. "She's hot when she's in pissed-off protection mode." Abby patted Ziva's chest, her fingers lingering dangerously close to the cleavage peaking from under the V-neck tee shirt. " _My_ Ziva," she said again, staking her claim.

Ziva cleared her throat. "That is right, and _your_ Ziva is going to keep you safe." She studied Abby's eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the club the pupils shouldn't have been completely dilated, but they were. She kept her hand under Abby's jaw and looked up at the man next to her friend. "Mister Bear?"

He nodded and then glanced at his own hand, still firmly around Abby's arm. "I didn't leave her side."

Ziva stood and took her hand off Abby for the first time. She reached into her jacket and took out a business card and handed it to him. "You have earned my gratitude, Mister Bear. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

He released Abby's arm and took the card and tucked it into his jacket. He knew people, and something told him that if major shit ever truly hit his own personal fan, the card would be extremely valuable.

"Come on," Ziva said gently. She pulled Abby to her feet and wrapped an arm around her. "Who gave you the drink?" she asked. She pulled a glove from her pocket and carefully picked up the bottle with one hand.

"Bartender," Abby said as she leaned into the warmth of Ziva's compact, muscular frame. "Why, you wanna buy me a drink?"

"Did you leave your drink unattended?" Ziva asked. She squirmed when Abby's hand around her waist moved under her shirt. Abby's fingers slowly traced patterns on the exposed skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

"I don't think so…" Abby's voice trailed off. "You taking me home?" she asked when she noticed that they were walking toward the door.

"You are going to the ER," Ziva informed her friend.

"No." Abby's eyes widened. "I hate hospitals." She frowned and shook her head. "Hate 'em. Can't stand 'em." Her voice trailed off and she yawned.

"You are going to the ER," Ziva insisted. She sighed and softened her tone. "We need to make sure you are okay."

Abby crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. Her mind wandered quickly and she smiled at her friend and leaned closer. "It'd be more fun if you took me home," Abby said with a snicker. The drug was taking over, and now that Abby was safely in Ziva's capable hands, the evidence technician stopped fighting the effects.

"I'm sure it would," Ziva said patiently. She knew better than to argue with a drugged victim. "Thank you," she told the bouncer again. She guided Abby out the front exit. "Officer?" she called when she saw the man who had followed her to the scene.

"Ma'am?" he asked uncertainly.

"Officer… Plumber," Ziva said as she read the man's nametag. "Ziva David, NCIS. I will be dispatching an NCIS team. If you could detain everyone inside the bar, I would appreciate it."

"Uh, sure…" He stared at the Goth woman draped across the NCIS woman.

"She was undercover," Ziva lied as she managed to lean Abby against the hood of the mini cooper long enough to put the drink bottle into an evidence bag from her glove box. She then belted Abby into the passenger seat and started the car.

Abby leaned forward, struggling against the seatbelt. "Hey, wait… I really hate the hospital. Take me home. Ducky can come check me out," she said as they pulled away from the curb.

"I promise to take you home later." Ziva's eyes darted from the road to Abby's chest and she noticed her friend's breathing becoming slower and deeper.

Abby smiled and waggled her eyebrows. "We'd have a lot more fun if you took me home now." She let her eyes linger on Ziva's chest and the way her tee shirt clung to her curves. "You know what? You're very pretty," Abby said as she leaned a bit closer.

"And you are very drugged," Ziva replied.

"Yes, I am." Abby laughed and ran her hand across Ziva's arm. "But you are still very pretty." She frowned. "Not pretty…"

Ziva glared at her intoxicated friend for a moment before focusing on the street again.

"Not _just_ pretty. Hot," Abby corrected. "Smokin' hot." She patted Ziva's arm a few times and then began petting the skin exposed by the short-sleeved shirt.

Ziva took a corner fast enough to toss Abby toward her.

Abby giggled and pulled the shoulder strap of the seatbelt under her arm so she could lean toward her friend. She rested her head against Ziva's shoulder. "You came to my rescue," she whispered sleepily. She scrunched her brows and rubbed her cheek against Ziva's bare arm.

"Of course I did," Ziva said. "I will always come to your rescue, Abby."

"Wow." Abby smiled as she played with Ziva's olive drab tee shirt. The thought of Ziva as her own personal knight in camo armor was comforting and a bit exciting. She moved her hand down Ziva's arm and then noticed way the tee shirt clung to Ziva's flat belly. It seemed perfectly reasonable to move her hand to Ziva's belly, so she did.

Ziva's eyes widened at the contact. Abby's touch was electric. She allowed the contact to continue, telling herself it was only because the tactile investigation was keeping Abby's attention focused. The fact that it sent fiery jolts through Ziva's senses was inconsequential.

Abby continued playing with Ziva's belly as the agent made calls to the other members of her NCIS team. She started with Ducky, wanting the medical examiner at the hospital as soon as possible. She called DiNozzo and McGee next, asking them to go to the bar while she took care of Abby.

" _My_ Ziva," Abby whispered as she nuzzled her friend's arm and sighed. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. "I don't feel very good." It was becoming difficult to keep her eyes open.

"I know." Ziva patted her leg comfortingly. "But you will soon."

Abby tucked her hand under Ziva's shirt and moaned. "You're so soft," she whispered with a yawn.

"Soft?" Ziva said indignantly. "I run every morning and do 200 sit-ups per day!"

"Soft skin," Abby explained. She laughed and squeezed Ziva's belly. "Very firm belly. Yum."

"Yum?" Ziva responded in a confused tone.

"Yum," Abby repeated. Her hand was now anchored to Ziva's tummy. The tips of her fingers nudged just under the waist of the pants.

Ziva had no reply for that.

She pulled into the hospital parking lot and left the car at the emergency doors usually reserved for ambulance unloading. As she half-carried Abby inside, she felt the tightness across her chest finally begin to subside.

* * *

"Abigail Sciuto," Ducky said as he rushed up to the ER desk.

"Curtain four, Ducky," the nurse said. She'd met the venerable man on many occasions. He was generally chatty when the circumstances warranted. She knew that the unconscious woman in curtain four was a coworker, so it didn't surprise her to see him so focused.

As Ducky moved the curtain aside, the sight that met him froze him in place. Abby was on the exam table asleep. She had Ziva's left hand in both of hers, tucked up to her chin. If the signs of affection weren't enough to give him pause, the Sig Sauer P228 that spun in his direction certainly did the job.

"Ah, Ducky." Ziva casually used one hand to tuck her handgun into its holster on her right hip. She eased back into the chair beside Abby and studied the sleeping woman.

"How is she?" Ducky asked. The fact that Ziva's hand never left Abby's didn't escape his watchful eyes.

"She is resting," Ziva said, her voice soft though her expression was stony. "Preliminary results are positive for Rohypnol."

"Urine test?" Ducky interrupted.

"Yes," Ziva said. "I had them draw blood as well to make sure we do not miss anything." She nodded to a box on the small table at one side of the room. "Two sets of everything so you can run your own tests. The bottle and its contents are there as well."

"Good. Good," Ducky said. "What is the concentration of Rohypnol in her system?"

Ziva actually growled then slowly turned toward him. "The bastard doctor refused to administer Romazicon. Abby shouldn't have to sleep this off."

"I take it her levels are low?" he asked.

"Yes. The Doctor thinks she probably ingested approximately one half milligram. One half of a full dose," Ziva said. "It was a generic version, pharmaceutical quality. I don't like the idea of that stuff in her." She grabbed Abby's chart and handed it to him. "And since they used the generic, there was no dye marker." She had to take a calming breath. Whoever drugged Abby must have known that the company that manufactured Rohypnol began adding dye to the center of the sleep aid to avoid its use as a date rape drug. The drug would turn any drink it was mixed into a bright blue color. Generic companies didn't bother.

Ducky scanned the report. "If the Rohypnol is indeed a low dose of pharmacy quality medication, and she's had less than a full dose, she should be alright. She's healthy, had limited alcohol ingestion and her vitals are strong," he said as he scanned the chart. "The Romazicon is a benzodiazepine antagonist. It is generally given only in the case of Rohypnol overdose." Ducky moved to the opposite side of the bed and felt Abby's pulse, needing to verify the chart. "Its effectiveness in counteracting low dose exposure is minimal at best." He shifted his focus and lifted one of Abby's eyelids. "I'd have to agree with her physician. The risk of adding more drugs to her system outweighs the possible reward."

Ziva's eyes narrowed and she moved a bit closer to the bed. Her chair scraped loudly across the tile floor as if expressing her frustration.

Ducky read the movement as an obvious sign of disapproval. "She's resting comfortably. We should let her body burn the drug out of her system," he said and then sighed. "Though she will have one doozy of a hangover."

They stayed silent a moment, each studied the woman on the bed, and their eyes were filled with concern and affection. Ziva's phone rang she quickly lifted it to her ear. "David," she said quietly.

"Any word on Abby?" McGee asked over the phone.

"She will be fine," Ziva replied, keeping her voice low. "What have you found?"

"Well, we just got here," McGee said defensively.

"And?" Ziva said angrily.

"And… the bartender said she gave Abby two hard lemonades. In bottles." McGee paused to move away from a group of people at the scene before continuing. "She said the new busboy helped her pull a fresh case from the walk in refrigerator right before she served the second bottle."

"Pull that case and get it to the lab," Ziva ordered.

"Already done," McGee said quickly. "I doubt the entire case is drugged," he said. "The bartender mentioned that the busboy opened the bottle meant for Abby."

"And what does he say?" Ziva asked.

"He doesn't say anything. We can't find him," McGee explained. "His name is Scott Landes. He started working here three weeks ago. Keeps to himself. Tonight was the first time he ever offered to open a drink for the bartender."

"He targeted Abby specifically," Ziva said darkly.

"Looks that way," McGee replied. "You, uh... still with Abbs?"

"Of course," Ziva said, deeply offended.

"Just checking. I need to go. The manager is pulling the busboy's records for me."

"Good. Keep me informed." Ziva hung up and her eyes were drawn back to Abby's sleeping face.

"It seems you're on guard duty," Ducky said as he gathered the evidence box. "I'll get these back to my lab to double check the findings."

"I am taking her home," Ziva said as she stood.

"I'm not sure that's wise." Ducky paused and turned back toward the bed.

"Will it put her in danger?" Ziva challenged.

"Well, no," Ducky admitted. "But given Abigail's current condition, transport would be problematic at best."

"She hates hospitals," Ziva said as she brushed Abby's hair away from her face. "I will not have her wake up here."

Ducky started to protest.

"And this is not a secure location." Ziva took a deep breath and released it with a determined nod of her head. The matter was decided. "You will help me transport her."

Ducky opened his mouth, paused, then took a breath as he debated arguing with the Mossad officer who had obviously made Abby's safety her personal mission.

"Fine," Ziva said angrily. "I will carry her."

"Wait." Ducky knew when he was facing an unstoppable force. "I'll get a wheelchair," he said with a shake of his head.

**CHAPTER TWO**

_'My head is going to explode,'_ was the first thought that managed to dig its way to the surface of Abby's sleepy mind. She drew in a slow breath and snuggled into the soft bed beneath her. _'This is not my coffin bed,'_ was the second thought that surfaced. Now she was awake. She opened her eyes. It was mostly dark and she could make out an unfamiliar nightstand in an unfamiliar room. _'Okay, panic is definitely an option,'_ she thought with a gulp.

"You are safe, Abby," Ziva said in a gentle whisper.

"Ziva?" Abby sat up, regretting it immediately. "Ouch. Headache." She turned toward Ziva's voice. The young agent was sitting in a chair next to the bed. She had a blanket over her lap and looked like she had been sitting there for some time.

Ziva got out of the chair and sat on the edge of the bed so she was eye to eye with Abby. "How are you feeling?" She felt Abby's forehead then reached over and turned on the lamp next to the bed.

"Confused," Abby said as she blinked against the harsh light. "How exactly did I get here? And just where is here?" A wave of nausea hit. She put her hand over her mouth. "Tummy not happy," Abby said grouchily.

"Are you going to be ill?" Ziva stood quickly.

"No." Abby shook her head slowly, but groaned immediately. "Moving my head… bad. Very bad." She held her head between her hands and tried to give Ziva her full attention. "How did I get here? Where is here?"

"You are in my bed," Ziva said slowly.

Abby's eyes widened to the size of small saucers.

"You went to _the Black Orchid_ last night and ingested Rohypnol," Ziva explained.

"If you were anyone else, I'd be asking about my virtue." Abby put both hands on her hips and allowed a tiny smirk. "Miss David, I was drugged and I ended up in your bed how exactly?"

"You sent me a text and I came to get you." Ziva blushed and looked down at the floor. It meant a great deal to her that Abby had called her, not Tony, who was the senior agent, and not McGee, who she had once dated.

"Oh my God," Abby yelled, but immediately squeezed her eyes shut. "Yelling bad. Very bad." She swallowed, holding back a wave of nausea. "I can't remember anything after leaving work last night." She lifted the blankets and saw that she was still wearing her own clothes and let out a relieved sigh. "Did you get to me before or after I passed out?"

"Before," Ziva said. She took Abby's wrist in her hand. "You felt the effects and told Mister Bear and called me."

"Mister Bear?" Abby scrunched her brows together. "Who the hell is Mr. Bear?"

"The bouncer…" Ziva said slowly.

"Oh, _Bear_." Abby sighed with relief. "Then you came and got me?" She smiled. "You saved me!"

"I took you to the ER." Ziva held up a hand to silence Abby. "They made sure you were okay and took samples. Then Ducky and I took you on the sheep." She smiled. "I know how much you hate hospitals."

Abby stared at her companion until understanding finally dawned. "On the _lam_ ," Abby said, explaining the correct idiom. " You took me _on the lam_. There's no b at the end. It's not an actual lamb that you ride to make your escape."

"You know, I did think that a sheep of any age would be a rather poor choice for an escape vehicle," Ziva said, her brow crinkled in confusion. "Who makes up these sayings?"

Abby laughed. "I don't know, I'm just glad you took me on the lam." She rubbed her face with both hands. "Thank you, for not leaving me there."

"I gave you my word that I would not." Ziva shrugged.

"Did you sleep in that chair?" Abby suddenly asked.

"No," Ziva said a bit too quickly.

"Did you sleep?" Abby asked suspiciously.

"No." Ziva cleared her throat. "You are in my protective custody."

"Ugh." Abby leaned over slowly until she had her head on the pillow. "I feel like crap," she added as she covered her eyes with her arm. "Wait… so, if you have me in protective custody, that means, one, you haven't caught whoever it was that drugged me." She didn't move her arm or wait for an answer. "Two, you think whoever drugged me was after me specifically and not just some random attack. And three, you suspect whoever drugged me is going to keep coming after me."

Ziva sat down and waited quietly to see if Abby would continue.

"Am I right?" Abby moved her arm enough to uncover her eyes.

"Yes," Ziva said honestly.

"Okay, seriously, I am getting really tired of every psycho in the entire country stalking me." Abby pulled the pillow in front of her and hugged it. She sniffled and buried her face into the soft fabric. It smelled like Ziva, which made her smile.

"Do you know a man named Scott Landes?" Ziva asked. She wanted Abby to focus on catching the attacker and not spiral into fear.

"Well, yeah," Abby sniffled and lifted her head.

"The busboy at _the Black Orchid_?" Ziva leaned closer.

"Not likely." Abby sat up, ignoring the pounding behind her eyes. "He's the lead guitarist for one of my favorite bands, _Collide_. They rock. "

"That is the name the busboy used on his application." Ziva reached for her phone.

"Could it be a coincidence?" Abby asked, knowing the answer before she asked the question.

"I do not believe in coincidences," Ziva said. "Who would know about this band?"

"Friends, lovers…" Abby's eyes widened. "Damn it, I've been careful. I specifically avoid creepy people who might stalk me later."

"I promise you I will find this man," Ziva said as she dialed. It didn't escape her keen observation skills that Abby had mentioned avoiding creepy 'people,' not men. In Ziva's experience, the use of gender non-specific terms was significant. She glanced at Abby and held her gaze. "Until then, you are not leaving my sight. I am now officially in charge of your safety." She waited as the call connected. "The busboy's name is an alias," she said as soon as DiNozzo answered.

"Nice greeting, Ziva," DiNozzo whined. "And yeah, we know that."

"Did you catch him?" Ziva demanded.

"No," he said glibly. "Hey, where'd you sleep?" The tone of his voice was as obvious as any leer. "Did you two have a pillow fight?"

"She was drugged, you pig." Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Kinky, David," Tony said with a snicker.

"What did you find?" She was tired of his attempts at humor.

"Ask me about Abby's lemonade bottle," he insisted.

"Tony," Ziva yelled.

"Volume," Abby said as she leaned into the pillow and covered her head. "Watch the volume."

"There were no finger prints on the bottle," Tony said in a chipper tone.

"And?" Ziva demanded.

"There _were_ prints on the box it came from," Tony said smugly. "Admit it, Ziva, I'm good."

"The forensics team is good," Ziva corrected. "Did you ID the prints yet?"

"What prints?" Abby sat up. "Who processed them? Who's been in my lab?"

Tony sighed. "You hurt my feelings, Ziva. Acting like I'm helpless without the forensics technician." He sighed forlornly. "You think you're so smart, you tell me who the prints belonged to."

"If I had to guess?" Ziva asked. "Mikel Mawher."

Abby's face paled and her jaw dropped.

"Ugh." Tony was shocked and more than a little peeved. "No fair using your assassin Jedi mind tricks!"

"So it was him?" Ziva asked. She knew he was supposed to be in jail, but her instincts told her it was Mawher.

"Yes," Tony said, and then sighed. "You ruined my big reveal."

"How did he get out of jail?" Abby asked hollowly.

"Why was he released and why was NCIS not notified?" Ziva asked. She had personally contacted the department of corrections and had a note added to his file that NCIS was to be notified before Mawher was released.

Abby waved her hand to get Ziva's attention. "Hello? Victim here. I should have been notified, too."

"Ah, so the all seeing Ziva doesn't know something," Tony taunted.

Ziva cleared her throat.

"Fine," Tony relented. "According to corrections, Mr. Mawher is still in custody."

"Send someone to fingerprint the Mawher in custody," Ziva said as she stood and began pacing.

"Ha!" Tony said triumphantly. "Already did. It's not him. Some whack job named Sam Elliot, no relation to the mustached actor by the way, is sitting in Mawher's cell using his name."

"And when was this Sam Elliot released?" Ziva asked.

"The actor?" Abby swung her legs out of the bed and stood.

Ziva waved a hand toward Abby as she continued listening.

"Sam Elliot, not the actor, was released twenty-eight days ago," Tony said as his tone finally became serious. "Which means Mawher's had a month to get a bead on Abbs."

"She will be staying with me until we get this guy," Ziva said.

"He's probably already tracking her," Tony pointed out.

"Which is why I took the battery out of her cell phone before we left the hospital," Ziva said in a matter of fact tone. "And why I doubled back six times on the way here to check for anyone following me."

Abby's jaw dropped, leaving her gaping at her friend.

"This guy was pretty high tech last time," Tony pointed out. "He may have even bugged her."

"Which is why I ran my scanner over her when I put her in my car," Ziva explained.

"Sounds naughty," Tony said. "How come you never run your scanner over me?"

"The next time your ex-boyfriend is after you, I will," Ziva promised sweetly.

Abby allowed a small smile.

"You really know how to hurt a guy, Ziva," Tony said.

"You have no idea, Tony," Ziva said with playful menace. She glanced at her watch, seeing that it was 3:56 a.m., and then she looked back at Abby. "Text me if you get anything else. I am putting Abby back to bed."

"There is something truly wrong when I am chasing leads at four a.m. while you get to put a young woman to bed." Tony sighed. "Although, that does paint quite a picture."

"Pig." Ziva hung up the phone and placed it on the nightstand. "Back to bed," she ordered Abby.

"I need a potty break," Abby said as she started toward the door. "Whoa," she said as she stopped short. She ran her hand over the steel bar mechanism that held the door closed. Her keen eyes immediately noticed that there were steel bars bolted on each side of the door that had obviously been attached to the wall studs. These bars had heavy-duty brackets with a steel bar threaded through them. The steel bar also threaded through two brackets on the actual door, which was metal. Abby's mind immediately calculated the physics and she knew that a SWAT team with battering ram wouldn't begin to breech the door. "Okay, who did your medieval interior decorating?"

"I did some home remodeling," Ziva said a sly smile. She went to the door and led Abby in the opposite direction, pointing at another door. "Use the master bath," Ziva suggested. "I do not want you out there unless I do a perimeter sweep."

"Like anyone could break in without you hearing them," she said as she smacked Ziva's arm and went toward the master bathroom door. "You gonna show me how to unlock the bank vault to your bedroom?"

"Of course," Ziva said. She furrowed her brow. "Is it medieval or a bank vault?"

"Well, I'm all for the bondage-y feel of the medieval theme…" She glanced over her shoulder with a sexy grin for her friend. "But the idea of your bed being a treasure holds a certain appeal as well."

Ziva looked down at the floor as she felt her cheeks blush.

Several minutes later, Abby came out of the bathroom. She had splashed water on her face, but still looked relatively disheveled. She tugged at her top and then at her plaid skirt. "Got any jammies?"

"Jammies?" Ziva's confusion was clearly evident. "Are you hungry?" She wondered if her friend was craving toast.

"Pajamas," Abby said with a giggle. "Something to sleep in?"

"Ah." Ziva nodded in understanding. "No 'jammies.' Perhaps a tee shirt?" she inquired. When Abby nodded Ziva went to a drawer and got a black tank top for the other woman and gave it to her.

"I want to go to my lab in the morning. Well, in a few hours actually." Abby lifted the tee shirt and smiled. She had seen Ziva wear it on several occasions and always liked the way it clung to her body. She knew her own chest was larger than Ziva's so it would be an interesting fit. At least, she hoped Ziva found it interesting.

"The lab is not a good idea," Ziva replied. "You need to stay hidden."

"I'm not hiding while that psycho is looking for me," Abby insisted. She sighed and held the tank top to her chest and inhaled the fragrance of Ziva's detergent. It calmed her. She turned toward her friend. "Ziva, I have to help catch him. The last time I almost went crazy. I ended up getting completely hammered in Gibbs' basement!"

"I know," Ziva said. It was getting more difficult to hide her emotions. Seeing Abby suffer was tearing down the walls she had worked so hard to keep in place. The reasons for building those walls seemed less and less important. She took Abby's hands in hers. "This time is different."

Abby raised both eyebrows in question, which increased the throbbing behind her eyes.

"It is different because I am taking charge of your safety this time." Ziva leaned forward. "I am a trained assassin. I can think of every possible way to get to you before this Mikel Mawher can, and I can come up with ten counter plans for each method he might use to come after you."

Abby nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could." She studied Ziva's expression and saw only deep concern. "It's hard for me to imagine you that way now," she said. "When you first got here, after, you know, Kate…" She glanced down at the floor. "It's all I could think about. That you were a trained killer like him, Ari."

Ziva nodded, but remained silent.

"Now, you're just Ziva." Abby smiled at her friend.

Ziva met Abby's gaze. "When I came to get you last night, you called me _your_ Ziva."

Abby's eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.

"It was cute." Ziva shrugged and her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"And you didn't mind?" Abby managed to ask as she felt her cheeks blush.

Ziva let her embarrassed friend off the hook. "If I was drugged and you came to get me, I would probably call you _my_ Abby." What she didn't say was that she'd want it to be true.

"Well, I am your Abby. Cuz, you know, we're friends and we're there for each other." Abby squeezed the tank top against her chest nervously. "I call you when I get drugged or stalked." She nodded toward Ziva. "And you call me when you've been framed for murdering FBI agents." She smiled. "It's a good deal."

"Yes, it is," Ziva agreed quietly, suddenly overcome with emotion. She remembered when she was hiding from the FBI and needed to find Gibbs. Abby was the first person she thought of calling. Ziva had known that Abby wouldn't let her down, and she had been right. Abby came through for her and helped clear Ziva's name.

Abby quickly pealed her top and bra off in one fluid motion and tossed both onto the nearby dresser. She paused, watching Ziva's reaction in a mirror a few feet away. Ziva's eyes darted to Abby's back, probably enjoying the large tattoo of a cross there, then Ziva seemed to realize she was gawking and looked away. Abby pulled the tank top on and smiled when she saw Ziva spin so she was facing the opposite wall. "I'm not bashful," Abby said with a chuckle. "But I do appreciate your discretion." She slipped out of her skirt to reveal black panties. "I'm sure you've seen other women undress before." Abby climbed into bed.

"Of course," Ziva said. When she turned there was a distant expression in her eyes and the corner of her mouth lifted for a brief instant, as she remembered several occasions, then she cleared her throat and made sure her expression was blank. She was actively not looking at Abby's cleavage, which the tank top accentuated nicely. The shirt was at least one size too small, which in Ziva's mind was just about perfect.

"Oh my God!" Abby pointed at her friend. "You are so busted." Despite her pounding headache, Abby was now in full busybody mode. "You've totally been with women. As in _been_ _with_ , been with."

Ziva blushed darker and went to the door and rechecked the steel bar. She could feel Abby's eyes on her back. She slowly turned and shrugged. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, yeah." Abby wiggled as she pulled the covers into place. "It's a problem because you _so_ should have shared this with me."

"Excuse me?" Ziva froze like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming train. "Shared this with you?" she voice was a squeak.

"The information," Abby said as she began to giggle uncontrollably. "What, you think I'd just pounce on you?" She didn't add that jumping Ziva certainly had some merit.

"Ah," Ziva nodded in understanding.

"Wait." Abby sat up. "Now, I'm offended. Why does the idea of me pouncing on you give you the heebie jeebies?"

"Heebie jeebies?" Ziva's confusion was clearly written on her face.

"You were totally freaked out by the thought of me pouncing you!" Abby accused.

"Not freaked out." Ziva took a deep breath and let it slowly out. "Surprised. Surprised that pouncing on me would occur to you." She sat next to Abby and smiled disarmingly. "Now, sleep." She caressed Abby's cheek and tucked a few stray stands of hair behind her ear. She guided Abby back onto the pillows. "I will be here watching over you."

The gentle action left Abby dumbfounded. She opened her mouth to speak, but any smart-mouthed reply died on her lips. The tenderness in Ziva's eyes and touch caught Abby completely off guard. She nodded and relaxed into the pillow.

Ziva switched off the lamp and turned her chair to face the door.

_'Wow,'_ Abby thought to herself. She could feel the energy in the room shift. Ziva's tenderness was replaced with a dangerous force that was tangible. She stared at Ziva's profile for several minutes. There was enough light in the room from the digital clock to let her see her friend's expression. There was nothing soft or gentle about Ziva as she sat guard. Abby cleared her throat, not wanting to startle the trained assassin.

"Are you okay?" Ziva turned and moved closer. Her eyes were instantly full of concern again. She moved to the bed and tucked her fingers under Abby's jaw.

"Fine." Abby smiled, knowing that Ziva was checking her pulse point. "I just wanted to…" She took Ziva's hand and pulled it away from her jaw and held it to her chest. "Thank you," she said sincerely, not releasing Ziva's hand. "I feel safe." That simple statement spoke volumes. The last time Mikel Mawher had pursued Abby, she hadn't even felt safe when she was locked in Gibbs' basement.

Ziva paused as she fought with her own inner demons. Finally she decided she could not deny her heart any longer. Abby Sciuto was a force of nature that Ziva had fought too long. She smiled and leaned her face down until she touched her forehead to Abby's. "You _are_ safe," she whispered. She lifted her head and squeezed Abby hand. "As long as I draw breath, no one will hurt you ever again."

Abby swallowed, emotion suddenly overwhelming her. She stared a moment longer and only released Ziva's hand when the young officer turned toward the door to sit vigil. Abby sat in the darkness and wondered if Ziva had any idea of the effects of her words and actions. The chivalrous statement, made so simply, with utter sincerity, had shaken Abby to the core.

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Oh… my… God," Abby grumbled from under the blankets.

"Welcome back, sleeping beauty," Ziva said from her position beside the bed. She wondered if the previous night's drug induced amnesia would include the early morning discussion she had shared with Abby. "Do you know where you are?" she asked gently.

"I'm in your bed." The blankets moved downward and revealed eyes that were bloodshot and puffy from a day of drugged slumber. "But apparently, my head is in hell." Abby sat up with a groan. "Thanks for watching over me," she said in a gravelly whisper.

"You are welcome," Ziva said as she stood. "Do you think you could hold down some food?"

"Caf-Pow?" Abby asked hopefully.

Ziva shook her head. "Sorry. I can offer you coffee." She reached out and felt Abby's forehead briefly. "Last night you had a bit of a fever."

"Coffee is not Caf-Pow," Abby said. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. "After a nice hot shower I'll be ready to head to my lab. McGee will get me a Caf-Pow."

"You can go into the lab tomorrow." Ziva stood and went to the door and unlocked the steel latch.

"Uh, no." Abby jumped from the bed completely ignoring the fact that she was wearing only a skimpy tank top and revealing underwear. "I told you last night, I need to help catch Mikel."

"Abby, the day is gone," Ziva said gently. She was doing her best to ignore Abby's lack of clothing. "Besides, all the evidence has been processed."

"How late is it?" Abby spun to check the digital clock. "Four thirty!" Abby exclaimed. "As in p.m.?"

"You needed to rest for the drug to burn off," Ziva reminded her. She looked down at the floor when the view of Abby's firm backside and the bottom of the tattoo peeking from under the tank top became a bit too tempting.

Abby turned and looked at Ziva as if seeing her for the first time. "And you just sat here the entire day, watching over me?"

Ziva nodded.

"You just stayed in this room all day long?" Abby couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I promised that I would protect you. That is best accomplished at your side." Ziva motioned toward the master bathroom door. "I could loan you a change of clothes if you want that hot shower. I can make some phone calls while you shower and I will make you something to eat."

"Ah… yeah, sure," Abby said after a moment. "Then what?" she asked.

"Then you make yourself comfortable," Ziva said. "You are staying here until we capture Mikel Mawher."

"So you're my CPO?" Abby's lips twisted into a smirk.

Ziva dipped her head to hide her grin. "Yes, I guess I am." She cleared her throat and focused so she could stifle her smile. She looked at Abby with a stern expression. "And as your Close Protection Officer, I will keep you safe."

Abby raised one eyebrow and put both hands on her hips. "And do you plan on sitting guard every night?"

Ziva nodded and went toward her dresser.

"And do you plan on guarding me all day?" Abby asked.

"Of course," Ziva said as if Abby had suddenly lost a few IQ points.

"And just when are you going to sleep?" Abby asked.

Ziva took a deep breath and sighed.

Abby smiled triumphantly. "You may be some super-spy-agent-girl, but you are not invincible. You need to sleep, too."

"I will sleep when necessary." Ziva shrugged and removed some clothing from her dresser.

Abby moved across the room and stood next to the dresser. "Ziva, I need you to take care of yourself," she said quietly.

The genuine concern in Abby's voice made Ziva pause and turn toward the taller woman. "I will be fine," she said with a slight smirk.

"No, you won't." Abby grabbed both of Ziva's arms. "You'll be tired, and then you'll go out on some case and you won't be at your Ziva-best and some nasty bad guy, a bad guy who _has_ been sleeping and _is_ at his bad-guy-best will do something bad and you could get killed!"

Ziva smiled and bit her lip, and then put her hands on either side of Abby's face and lifted up on her toes so she could look into Abby's green eyes. "Abigail. Breathe," she said firmly.

Abby took a few deep, rapid breaths. Her eyes shined with unshed tears. "I don't want to lose another friend." Her voice cracked.

Ziva exhaled slowly, and then pulled Abby into a hug.

Abby let out a surprised squeak. Ziva had never initiated a hug. The surprise quickly wore off and Abby leaned into the hug reveling in the warmth and comfort of the smaller woman's compact body.

After a moment, Ziva lifted her chin so she could reach Abby's ear. "Caitlin wasn't tired or sloppy," she whispered. "This job comes with risk, but I promise you, I am always cautious."

Abby pulled tighter into the hug. "So was Kate," she said almost too quiet to hear. She sniffled and was surprised when she felt Ziva guide her to the bed. She scowled when Ziva released her hold and motioned for Abby to sit. Once Abby was sitting comfortably, Ziva sat next to her and joined their hands.

Ziva met Abby's eyes. "I am truly sorry for what Ari did," she said. Her shame was evident as her eyes darted away when Abby's attention became too intense.

"I never blamed you," Abby said as she took Ziva's chin and guided her friend's face back toward her. She paused, the striking darkness of Ziva's brown eyes holding her attention. She suddenly noticed that she still held her friend's jaw in her palm and wondered when it had become so natural to touch her.

"When I first arrived, I think you did," Ziva said. Abby's hand on her face made Ziva smile unconsciously and blush as she tilted slightly into the touch.

Abby suddenly felt her body flush with warmth. She became painfully aware of the intimacy of the situation so she removed her hand and cleared her throat. "I never blamed you." She sighed, embarrassed by what she was about to admit. "I resented you." She locked her green eyes with Ziva's brown. "I resented you sitting at her desk, reminding me that she was gone. I resented you for not being her." She sighed again, slowly releasing the breath. "When I let myself start to like you, I fought it. It felt like I was letting Kate down, betraying her." Abby shifted her gaze until she was studying her own bare legs.

"And now?" Ziva asked.

"Now?" Abby chuckled. She looked up and gave Ziva a genuine smile. "You're my friend, Ziva. I'm very glad you came into my life. I'm very, very glad you're my friend." She paused. "I just hate the way it happened."

Ziva nodded sadly. "As do I." She stood and moved back to the dresser and collected a pair of baggy green cargo pants and a tan tee shirt. "I have found a home at NCIS, and that surprised me more than anyone." She moved to the next drawer and opened it. "Bikini or hip huggers?"

Abby stood and both eyebrows rose high onto her forehead. "I love ya, Ziva, but sharing underwear? A little too intimate even for me."

Ziva turned and held up two pairs of underwear. "These are new, Victoria's Secret, never worn. Feel free to keep them." She smirked. "Did you really think I'd offer you my…"

"Oh." Abby blushed and moved closer. She studied the jade green bikini underwear and the black hip huggers. "Victoria's Secret? You are full of surprises." She took the bikini underwear and turned them over in her hands. "Silk? So is this what well dressed NCIS agents wear?"

"You will have to ask Gibbs that. I think he prefers a pink thong," Ziva said mischievously and then she spun and went into the hall, leaving Abby alone in the room.

"Ziva in silk, wow," Abby whispered. She closed her eyes and sighed. _'Do not picture Ziva wearing these,'_ she thought to herself, which only caused the image of Ziva in the green panties to race into Abby's mind. She imagined the way the green silk would compliment Ziva's dark coloring. Then she imagined how the silk would feel warmed by Ziva's skin. "I did not need to think about that," Abby whispered as she headed into the master bathroom to take a much-needed shower. She realized if she kept thinking about Ziva in the silk panties, she'd have to make it a very cold shower.

* * *

"No, I have it covered," Ziva said into her phone. She had a pad and paper and was taking notes as she listened.

Abby paused as she came into the room, not surprised when Ziva spun toward her despite her silent approach.

Ziva held a hand up to signal Abby to wait a moment. "Because, if you send anyone here, that will reveal her location," Ziva said into the phone. She let out a frustrated breath. "Because I meticulously searched my car before coming here." She growled with frustration. "Well, I apologize if keeping Abby alive…" Ziva cringed as she shot a quick glance toward Abby. "…if keeping Abby safe is more important than hurting your feelings."

Abby ran a towel over her damp hair as she listened.

Ziva was not happy. "No one comes here unless I clear their vehicle myself," Ziva said flatly. There was a pause as Ziva listened, rolling her eyes occasionally. "That is not going to happen. Let's move on." She turned toward Abby expectantly.

"Me now?" Abby stepped forward. "Finally, I get to do something." She hurried to Ziva's side. "What can I do?"

Ziva slid the pad and paper toward Abby but spoke into the phone. "Abby is going to make a list of all the places she frequents."

Abby expression showed her lack of enthusiasm for such a mundane task.

Ziva continued into the phone. "And then we are going to check each place to see if they have any new employees matching Mikel Mawher's description." She pulled the phone away from her ear and actually glared at it. "Just pass the information to McGee or DiNozzo!" She hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Abby asked with a smirk.

"Douglas Edwards, the agent covering this weekend. " Ziva stood and paced.

"Ha!" Abby swatted Ziva on the arm. "I'm not the only one who doesn't trust the weekend crew to do their job." She paced alongside Ziva. "Which is why I should go to the lab and process the evidence!"

"Absolutely not," Ziva said. The last thing she wanted was for Abby to race off to the lab where Mawher was most likely to look for her. "And… as the victim, you cannot handle the evidence without risking the integrity of the prosecution," Ziva pointed out.

Abby laughed. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you, Ziva-the-over-protective-super-spy-killing-machine, are going to let Mikel _live_ after drugging me?"

Ziva's eyes shot open like an owl just startled by a cougar, an owl plotting no good.

Abby laughed, knowing she had totally busted Ziva. "You're not going to kill him, by the way. Not if you don't have to," Abby said as she went to the sofa and flopped into the cushions. She propped her feet on the low coffee table. "Not that I don't appreciate your mile wide protective streak, which I do." She pulled a cushion onto her lap and squeezed it to her chest. "We'll catch him and lock him up and make sure he stays locked up this time."

"Of course," Ziva agreed unconvincingly. She went to a closet and stepped out of view and reached up to a top shelf. She wasn't exactly thrilled that Abby had read her so well. The fact that Mawher had escaped prison made him too big a risk to be allowed to live. She had every intention of making certain Mawher wasn't taken alive.

"What are you up to?" Abby spun and looked over the back of the sofa at the closet.

"Finding something to keep you occupied," Ziva said as she emerged from the closet carrying a laptop, still in the box.

"New equipment?" Abby was on her feet and hopping up and down next to Ziva in a spilt second. "Macbook pro?" She hugged Ziva around the white Apple carton. "You've been holding out on me!" She backed up and held out her hands expectantly. "Gimmee!"

Ziva chuckled as she handed the computer to Abby. "Enjoy." She turned around and retrieved a bag and then followed Abby to the sofa and sat next to her. She smiled at the joy on her friend's face.

"Sweet!" Abby said as she petted the box. She turned to Ziva. "We should document this moment," she said. "I always take a picture of new equipment," she said solemnly. She focused on the bag at Ziva's feet and her eyes widened with curiosity.

Ziva chuckled good-naturedly and slid the bag in front of Abby. "I have been meaning to set up my new system and have not had time yet." Her smile widened as she enjoyed witnessing Abby's happiness. "Maybe you could do it for me?"

"Yes!" Abby exclaimed. She dug through the bag, noting the high-end router and security devices, some of which were government issue, but not the US government. They had obviously not come from the Apple store. She drew in an excited breath and then looked at Ziva in shock. "Is this what I think it is?"

"I obviously do not want anyone hacking into my system." Ziva sat back and watched Abby attack the equipment like a kid on Christmas with a stack of new toys.

"Israeli encryption? Cool!" Abby wiggled from side to side. "I'm guessing we shouldn't mention this?" She paused for a brief second to meet Ziva's eyes. "Gotcha. This doesn't exist because that would probably be illegal in several countries." She went back to the bag of electronics. "Sweet!"

Ziva leaned back and watched with an unfamiliar sensation filling her. It was contentment, she realized. Being here with Abby, here together in Ziva's home, doing something so domestic felt… right. She smiled at the gleeful expressions that skittered across Abby's face as she removed the laptop, and then Ziva realized there was something she needed to share with her friend.

"Abby?" Ziva asked nervously. She reached up and absentmindedly rubbed her Star of David necklace.

"Uh huh?" Abby leaned over the side of the sofa and squeaked as she lunged for an extension cord running along the wall.

"I was not completely honest with you about the computer," Ziva admitted.

"What do you mean?" Abby said and then grunted as she bent completely over the side of the sofa, leaving her lower body on the arm of the sofa and her upper body flailing as she angled awkwardly to plug in the laptop charger.

Ziva waited until Abby reappeared. "It was no accident that I had not set up the computer yet." She looked down at her lap nervously and her fingers returned to the golden star hanging from her neck. Her mother had called it her _Magen David_ , which was Hebrew for 'Shield of David.'

"What do you mean?" Abby studied her friend curiously.

"I waited because I had meant to ask you to assist me." Ziva lifted her gaze until she met Abby's intense green eyes. "I wanted to spend time with you away from work."

The smile that spread across Abby's face was radiant. "All you had to do was ask." She thought about the implications of the normally stoic Mossad officer reaching out to her. "Many have succumbed to the Sciuto charm." She sighed and pretended to polish her nails against her shirt. "I'm growing on you, huh?"

"Definitely," Ziva said, changing her expression to one of mock seriousness.

"Well, thanks to my psycho ex, we'll get to spend tons of time together." The sparkle in Abby's eyes dimmed. "Which is really not a happy thought," she mumbled.

A pained expression covered Ziva's features.

"Not the spending time with you," Abby said quickly. "Because that rocks. I am like totally thrilled to be hanging out with you." Abby's brows crinkled together. "It's the crazy, homicidal stalker that worries me."

"Let me worry about that." Ziva moved closer and put her hand on Abby's back. "You play with the new computer equipment and I will do my ninja spy thing."

Abby rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. She turned and her eyes met Ziva's. "Thank you," Abby said. For a moment, neither spoke as their eyes remained locked. Abby felt a magnetic pull toward her friend. She noticed the sable brown color of Ziva's eyes, and then she shifted her focus down to Ziva's full lips. She wondered if the former spy had any idea how often Abby had wondered how those lips would feel pressed to her own.

Ziva was feeling the electricity between them as well. She was distracted by Abby's green eyes, the color reminding her of the amazing shades the Mediterranean ocean would take on during a summer morning. She saw Abby's gaze drop slightly and knew her friend was looking at her lips. She unconsciously licked her lips as if she could feel the scrutiny against her skin like a kiss.

Abby almost groaned when she saw Ziva's tongue dart out and wet the lips she was staring at. She started to lean forward and then it suddenly occurred to her that she was about to kiss her friend. She abruptly sat up straight.

"Okay. So, new computer," Abby said in a rush. She cleared her throat because her voice had sounded husky. "Don't forget we need a camera to document this."

Ziva didn't move. She paused, still leaning toward Abby's former position. She knew Abby had been moving toward her for a kiss, and was a bit shocked, pleased, but shocked. She cleared her throat and sat up. "As you wish," she said with a smile. She stood and took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she tried to rein in her raging hormones. Ziva was a trained spy. Spies were patient and they waited until the moment was perfect before acting, carefully gathering information until they had all the facts before making their move. A big piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place. _'She wanted to kiss me,'_ Ziva thought as she went to get her digital camera. There was an extra spring in her step as she hurried to her office.

Ever observant, Abby noticed. _'She wanted to kiss me,'_ the scientist deduced. She smiled and then focused on the computer in her lap. _'And just what the heck do I do with that information?'_ she wondered. Her thoughts drifted to images of kissing Ziva, then to where those kisses might lead and she shivered. "Yum," she whispered.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The black of the night sky was surrendering to the morning hues of blue as the sun broke over the horizon. Abby yawned and leaned against the window of the car. She watched the city coming to life as Ziva drove through the mostly empty streets. Abby had noticed that they were heading away from NCIS headquarters, but Ziva had explained that they were 'taking the long way' to avoid detection. So far, 'the long way' had taken them over an hour in the completely wrong direction. She sighed, trusting Ziva to know what she was doing. After all, Ziva was the queen of spies.

Abby had spent the previous evening with Ziva and found their time together relaxed and comfortable. Ziva spent much of the afternoon calling businesses from a list of places Abby frequented, while Abby put the new computer through its paces. She had been shocked to find that the laptop had additional memory, a huge hard drive, and a lightning fast processor, none of which were available to the general public. Though, on reflection, she realized that it shouldn't have surprised her. Apparently Ziva had access to the super spy model. Every moment with the beautiful Israeli brought some new revelation, and every new revelation left Abby hungry for more.

Dinner had merely confirmed what Abby already knew from a few parties Ziva had thrown. Ziva was an incredible cook. The revelation from the meal had been that Ziva had prepared several of Abby's favorite dishes. Ziva acted as if she had just happened to have the ingredients on hand. After dinner came another surprise when Ziva suggested a movie. Ziva had recently acquired a plasma television and DVD player, and she had several of Abby's favorites, _the Princess Bride_ , _Dawn of the_ _Dead_ , John Carpenter's _The_ _Thing_ , _Dances with Wolves_ , and all three _Austin Powers_ movies.

Abby was building a very important case and the evidence was stacking up nicely. She had mentioned each movie to Ziva in the past, which meant one of two things. One, Ziva had heard her mention the movies and decided to watch them because she valued Abby's opinion, which was a good thing. Or two, Ziva had heard her mention the movies and decided to make her movie collection Abby-friendly, which was a very good thing. Other surprises included finding _Thelma and Louise_ in the movie collection, which was the film they had ended up watching first. Ziva, of course, had several critical comments on the gun handling techniques as well as a string of biting commentaries on the US legal system. They watched _the Princess Bride_ next, which explained Ziva's new favorite catch phrase, 'as you wish.'

Abby took a moment away from her quiet reflection and glanced at Ziva. ' _God, that woman is stunning,'_ she thought as their car raced through the city.

"You okay?" Ziva glanced toward her, as if feeling Abby's scrutiny.

"Um hmm," Abby mumbled and then nodded, resting her face against the window again and closing her eyes. She heard the muffled sounds of fabric moving and then felt Ziva's hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to see Ziva's leather jacket balled up to resemble a pillow.

"Here," Ziva said. "I do not want you getting a kick in your neck."

"Kink," Abby said with a smirk. She took the jacket and used it as a pillow and settled in again. The jacket was warm, having just been taken from Ziva's body. It held the woman's intriguing scent.

"Excuse me?" Ziva asked.

"A kink in my neck," Abby said as she opened her eyes and turned toward Ziva.

"Ah, thank you for clarifying." Ziva blushed.

"Did you think it was an offer?" Abby asked, obviously bemused. She closed her eyes and stifled a yawn.

"Is kink something you generally offer while carpooling?" Ziva asked innocently.

"That depends on who I'm carpooling with," Abby said without opening her eyes.

"I will make a note of that for future reference," Ziva said, her voice a bit strained.

"Make a note of it," Abby said as she opened her eyes, "put it on a post-it, and keep it handy." She smiled as she watched Ziva's blush deepen.

Ziva stopped at a red light and she stared at Abby. She knew Abby was enjoying the banter as much as she was. She bent slightly toward Abby and lowered her voice to a husky, sensual whisper. "I do not need a post-it; I remember everything you tell me." She pinned Abby in her gaze. "Especially the important things."

Abby had to fight down the urge to lean toward Ziva, grab her, and kiss her senseless. She needed to change the subject fast or she'd have to explain to Gibbs why Ziva was reporting to the office hours late and covered with fresh hickeys. "Speaking of important…" She cleared her throat. "You are not sleeping in the chair another night."

"And just where should I sleep?" Ziva asked, her voice still husky. The light changed and Ziva gunned the car into motion. "The best place for me to guard you is in the same room, and I only have one bed."

"Um…"Abby's jaw dropped. _'Out of the frying pan and into the fire,'_ she thought.

Ziva turned and gave Abby a questioning glance. One eyebrow was high on her elegant forehead and her full lips were pursed in a very sexy crooked smile.

Abby's mind raced with predatory glee. If Ziva wanted to take the gloves off, fine. "It's a big bed, Ziva." She smiled and licked her lips. "Plenty of room for both of us." She shrugged and sighed. "Although I do tend to cuddle up during the night," she rubbed her chin as if thinking. "I'm used to sleeping in a coffin, so all that room in a bed feels kinda' hinky… I tend to find the closest body and just… well…"

" _Any_ body?" Ziva asked. She saw the building she was looking for and changed lanes.

"I'm pretty selective about who I let into bed with me," Abby said. "Call it prescreening."

Ziva nodded, but remained silent for a moment. She glanced at Abby, her tone suddenly more serious. "I am glad that I pass your prescreening."

"You absolutely do," Abby said honestly. "You're a good friend, Ziva." She yawned again and smiled, embarrassed. "Sorry. I'm usually seeing this view at the end of my day, not the start." She pointed to the sunrise in the distance.

"I am the one who is sorry," Ziva said sincerely. "This is earlier than even I am usually up, but we need to take precautions if you insist on going to the office."

"I insist." Abby crossed her arms over her chest. "And the reason for no Caf-Pow?"

"Mikel Mawher knows you." Ziva glanced over at Abby and then back to the road. "Therefore, you are not going to do anything you usually do. You ordering a Caf-Pow is like a fish breathing water. Predictable."

"A fish breathing water isn't so much predictable as it is necessary for life," Abby pointed out. "Like me and Caf-Pow." She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted silently for a moment. Even her best puppy dog eyes failed to affect her friend. "Ziva!"

"You will have to live without Caf-Pow," Ziva said reasonably. She smiled when she heard Abby's grouchy exhale. "Be a good girl and I will bring home some new software for you to play with tonight," Ziva promised.

Abby's eyebrows rose in unison, high onto her forehead. "You want me to play with your software?" Abby asked with a seductive leer.

Ziva turned toward the tone more than the words. She smiled and let her eyes drift slightly closed. She knew from experience that trained spies buckled under her sexy gaze. "Does that interest you?" she asked in a seductive whisper, and then slowly licked her bottom lip.

"Uh huh…" Abby's voice was strangled squeak. She felt like she was going to melt into a puddle in the seat of the car.

One corner of Ziva's lips lifted into sexy half smirk. "Then it is a date."

"Yeah." Abby nodded, completely thrown for a very big loop. She noticed that Ziva's grin didn't fade as she focused on the road ahead. "No fair," she whined. "You cannot use your evil-sexy- spy-ninja-Jedi-mind-trick on me. I haven't even had any caffeine!"

"You find me sexy?" Ziva asked innocently. She stopped at a red light and turned toward Abby and batted her eyelashes.

"I do have eyes, Ziva." Abby's tone made it clear that she found Ziva's question ridiculous. "I can't imagine anyone not finding you sexy."

"Thank you," Ziva said quietly. She had no smart-mouthed reply for the simple admission. She shifted her focus back to the road and turned right at the red light, and then pulled into a parking structure. She stopped at a booth in front of a lowered gate.

An armed Marine came to her window. "Ma'am?" He had one hand on his weapon as he looked into the car.

"Officer David," Ziva said as she handed him her ID. "You are expecting us, Lt. Carson?" She noticed his nametag and committed his name and face to memory.

"Yes, ma'am," Carson said. He leaned down, comparing Ziva to her picture.

A second Marine in the booth used a computer to check her license plate. After a moment he stepped forward and held out a device.

Carson turned and took the device and began scanning the car.

Abby's confusion was written on her face. "I know this isn't NCIS. As a matter of fact, we're like miles in the wrong freakin' direction," she said, pointing out the obvious. "Why are we here?"

"Yes, we are not at NCIS," Ziva confirmed. She nodded toward Carson, who was moving around the car and holding the device to every part of the vehicle. "He is checking for tracking devices."

"You did that last night," Abby said as she turned in her seat to watch the Marine's progress around the car.

"We must check for bugs frequently to avoid detection." Ziva rested a hand on Abby's leg. "Which is why we are miles from NCIS."

Carson tapped the roof of Ziva's car. "Ma'am?" he asked.

Ziva hit a button and the hatch popped open. She turned and watched as Carson examined the back area of the vehicle, moving a neatly folded wool blanket next to her emergency kit. Once satisfied, he closed the hatch and came back to Ziva's side of the car.

"All clear, ma'am," Carson said as he leaned down at Ziva's window. "Second floor, B17."

"Thank you," Ziva said. The gate lifted and she moved the car into the structure and went up to the second floor.

"I'm waiting for an explanation," Abby said. "You drag me out of bed, all sleepy and without Caf-Pow, and take me on a road trip to top-secretville and I wanna know what's going on…" She had started strong, but by the time the sentence finished, it was a pitiful whine.

Ziva pulled into a parking spot labeled B17 and turned off the car. "Abby, do you trust me?"

"Of course," Abby whined.

"Then trust that I am doing my best to keep you safe." Ziva took Abby's hand and squeezed it. "That means keeping Mikel Mawher from ever seeing you. We cannot let him know when or how you get to the office, or when you leave, or who you leave with, or who you arrive with."

"And this marine parking lot helps how?" Abby asked with a pout.

Ziva got out and came around the car and opened the door for Abby. "Come on." She pulled Abby to her feet.

Abby smiled, noticing that Ziva had come around the car and held the door open like a perfect gentlewoman on a date. Abby held Ziva's jacket in her arms and wasn't about to give it up. The two walked over to a small door next to a huge set of double doors designed for a vehicle. Ziva knocked and the door buzzed as an electronic lock deactivated.

Abby followed Ziva inside and her eyes widened when she saw Ducky standing in front of the NCIS crime scene van. "Ducky!" She ran and threw herself into his arms. "Tell me you brought a Caf-Pow!" she begged as she pulled out of the hug.

Ducky sighed and shook his head. "Alas, dear Abigail, Ziva has rightly decided that Caf-Pow is off limits until further notice."

Abby shot Ziva a playful glare, and then turned to Ducky. "Is this a crime scene?"

Ducky shook his head. "Your chariot awaits, my lady." He bowed elegantly. He straightened back up and turned to Ziva. "I resisted the urge to wear a trench coat. With all this cloak and dagger espionage going on, it seemed rather fitting. Reminds me of a brilliant novel I read…"

Ziva's eyes widened in warning.

"Yes, I know. Do nothing out of the ordinary," he said before she could reprimand him. "Mister Palmer and I are wearing typical crime scene overalls." He pointed to the back of the van. "And I brought your supplies," he promised Ziva.

"What supplies?" Abby asked even as Ziva took her arm and guided her to the back of the van.

Ducky watched quietly, but he had a knowing smile that didn't escape Ziva's eagle eyes.

"Did you have a question?" Ziva asked pointedly.

"Not a one." He slapped her on the back and laughed. He was a keen observer and he had already noted dozens of shared glances between Ziva and Abby. He also noticed the way Ziva seemed unable to avoid touching Abby. It was out of character for the former Mossad officer who tended to avoid physical contact. That, combined with the list of supplies Ziva had requested, added up to a very obvious answer. Ziva was courting Abigail.

Ziva checked the van, greeted Palmer, and then helped Abby climb into the back of the vehicle. Ziva sat next to the coroner's assistant on a bench along one wall.

"Where do I sit?" Abby asked with a pitiful pout.

"You almost fell asleep on the way over." Ziva pointed at the gurney. "It is almost like a coffin," she said with a smile.

"My coffin has never actually contained a corpse," Abby said as she put both hands on her hips.

"Neither has this," Palmer volunteered. "Ziva called last night and had Ducky pull a new one out of storage." He completely missed the fact that Ziva was now blushing deep red. "As long as you're in protective custody, we're supposed to keep this one in Ducky's office and use it only when transporting you," Palmer explained.

Ziva suddenly found the floor extremely interesting. "Yes, well, we needed a vehicle to get you into and out of the building that comes and goes at all hours," Ziva said. She picked up a duffle bag.

Abby sat on the gurney and bounced to test the comfort. "This'll do," she said. She stretched out and wiggled. "It's a little lacking in the amenities department," she said with a frown. She tucked Ziva's jacket under her head and decided she could live with the gurney.

Ziva cleared her throat and held out a blanket and small pillow from the duffle.

"I love you!" Abby grabbed the items and settled in as the van started to move.

Ziva dug in the duffle bag and pulled out an iPod and a black sleeping mask and extended them to her friend.

Abby's jaw dropped.

"You keep this at the lab," Ziva said as she handled Abby the iPod. "I thought the music would help you relax." She held out the mask shyly. "I had Ducky pick this up. I know you like your coffin because it keeps out all light."

Abby hugged Ziva. "Thank you," she whispered. She smiled when she felt Ziva shiver at the contact.

"You are welcome." Ziva looked toward the front of the van and then at Palmer. "I believe you usually ride in front. Yes?"

"Ah, yeah," he said as he looked back and forth between the two women. He sighed and stood, then moved toward the front of the van.

"Do not forget the lights," Ziva said as he moved to the passenger area. She settled against the side of the van as the lights in the back compartment went dark. She found Abby's eyes on her in the near darkness. "Try to rest." She shifted trying to get comfortable. "It will take at least an hour to get back to NCIS."

"Feet," Abby said, patting the gurney. The gurney was strapped in place, so it was completely stable as the van moved out of the parking structure onto the street.

Ziva gave Abby a confused look.

"Your feet," Abby said with a laugh. "Put them up here." She patted the gurney again. When Ziva's feet were on the gurney, Abby lifted them onto her belly and snuggled her arms around them. "Better?" she asked as she pulled the sleeping mask into place.

"Much," Ziva said huskily.

Abby nodded and tucked one hand under the cuff of Ziva's pant leg and began absentmindedly rubbing her fingers over the soft skin. _'I'm being courted by a super spy,'_ she thought with a happy grin. She sighed and relaxed. She felt completely safe.

Ziva didn't feel safe. She was falling, and falling hard. She needed to talk to someone about her growing feelings. That thought made her chest ache. _'I miss you, Jenny,'_ she thought sadly. Her hand found its way to the gold at her neck. She traced the shape between her thumb and index finger as she became lost in her thoughts.

Before Jenny became the NCIS director, she was an excellent field agent. She had worked with Ziva throughout Eastern Europe and in Cairo, Egypt. The two had shared the bonds of friendship and of two comrades-in-arms. Jenny had known the dangers of the job. She had also been the first to notice the way Ziva looked at Abby. Ziva smiled in the near darkness of the van as it moved through the city streets. She remembered Jenny's blunt advice the day Abby had been trying to find an outfit for court. It was actually during the time Mawher had first stalked Abby. The memory was bittersweet for Ziva, bringing both a happy smile and a deep stab of pain that always came when she was thinking of her dear friend. She sighed and remembered Jenny and happier times.

_Abby had been trying to find the perfect outfit for court. As soon as Abby had left the room, Jenny had moved to Ziva's side and draped an arm around her friend. "Life's too short to ignore feelings like those," Jenny had told Ziva._

_"What feelings?" Ziva had said defensively._

_"Please." Jenny hadn't been fooled. "If you keep giving her those love-struck bedroom-eyes, everyone in the building is going to talk."_

_Ziva's first instinct had been to deny, then she had sighed and looked into her best friend's eyes. "Am I that obvious, mon cher?" She had asked, using a French term of affection._

_"Only to me," Jenny had said, and then she had kissed Ziva's cheek, which was a rare occurrence between them. She had wiped her lipstick away and held Ziva's face as she met her gaze. "Abby's a great woman. She likes you, too. She just doesn't know it yet." Jenny had pulled away and went behind the desk. "Strictly speaking, it's against policy." Then Jenny had gotten one of her most devilish smiles, the ones that had led to many a wild adventure when the two women were in Europe years before. "Strictly speaking, you've never been one to follow rules. Don't start now. You two can be good together."_

Ziva lifted her Magen David and sighed, missing Jenny more than she had in some time, which was saying a lot.

"You okay?" Abby asked from the gurney.

"Yes," Ziva said, her voice thick with emotion. She tucked the necklace beneath her blouse. "Go to sleep."

Abby wasn't convinced. She noticed Ziva rubbing her Jewish star. It was one of the few actions that revealed when Ziva was bothered by something. Abby wanted to dig deeper, but instead, she allowed Ziva her privacy. She did however move her fingers further up Ziva's leg and offered her support with gentle caresses.

* * *

"Shouldn't they be here?" DiNozzo paced nervously into front of his desk. "Ziva is always here by now." He checked his watch and scowled. It was almost 8:00 a.m. and, with a stalker after Abby, everyone was already busy chasing leads.

Gibbs walked up behind DiNozzo and slapped him on the back of the head. "Abby has a stalker, DiNozzo." He took a sip from his coffee cup. "Changing all routines would be Ziva's first move."

The elevator opened and Ziva came out with Abby at her side. Abby had her hand tucked through Ziva's arm and she looked reluctant to get more than a few centimeters from the younger agent.

"You okay, Abbs?" Gibbs asked.

"Gibbs!" Abby finally released Ziva's arm and sprinted to him. "I thought you were gone for two more days!" She threw her arms around him and held him in a death grip of a hug.

DiNozzo walked up to Ziva. "Were you followed?"

The glare Ziva gave DiNozzo made him take a step back.

"Not likely." Abby eased out of Gibbs' arms. "We took the scenic route." She smiled at Ziva with obviously affection. "And changed cars. I got to ride in back of Ducky's morgue van. On the gurney!"

"You made Abby ride in the van on a morgue gurney?" DiNozzo asked. "Ew!"

"She sleeps in a coffin," Ziva pointed out with a smirk. "Why would a morgue van bother her?"

Gibbs went to his desk and sat. "And it's a vehicle that can come and go at any hour without notice." He lifted his cup to Ziva. "Good thinking."

Abby went to Gibbs' desk and leaned against it. "I got to nap on the gurney on the way in, too," she said. With Gibbs and Ziva both on the case she felt safer already.

McGee came around the partition at the far end of the room carrying two cups of coffee. He handed one to DiNozzo. "It's eight in the morning, why would you need a nap, Abby?"

DiNozzo looked from Ziva to Abby. "Did you girls stay up all night? Was there pillow fighting that went just a bit too far?" He sighed. "One thing leads to another. Two hot chicks breathing heavy, wrestling on the bed…"

"Hello? I was recovering from being drugged!" Abby yelled. She didn't volunteer that she and Ziva had stayed up most of the night watching movies. If Tony found out that Ziva had a plasma TV and a DVD player, he'd want to come to dinner every night. She really didn't like that idea. Not one bit.

"Don't you people have work to do?" Gibbs asked. "Or was Mikel Mawher captured and no one bothered to tell me?"

"I have a list of new employees we should interview," Ziva said as she went to her desk.

"Who are these people? Where do they work?" McGee asked.

"Clubs, markets, anywhere Abby has frequented in the past," Ziva said.

"Get on it," Gibbs said.

"What about me?" Abby asked. She moved over and stood next Ziva, as if she thought Mikel might appear at any moment.

Gibbs sensed her nervousness. "There's no way he's getting onto the grounds," he promised. "But if you want us to move you into the elevator, let me know," he said kindly, referring to Abby's need to set up camp in the elevator the last time Mawher had stalked her.

Abby bit her lip and inched a bit closer to Ziva's desk. "No, I can work in my lab." She glanced at Ziva. "Can I go over the evidence from the club?"

Gibbs let out a slow breath. "I don't want to give his attorney any reason to throw out evidence. We just got some trace from a burglary. Six Marine uniforms were stolen. You can work on that."

"Sounds earth shattering." DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "Who's gonna check our evidence?" he whined.

"The FBI," Gibbs said. "I don't want Mawher having any loopholes in court."

"Gibbs!" Abby was mortified. "You're sending the FBI my evidence? Don't I have any say in this?"

"This is not a democracy, Abbs." Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. He turned and headed toward the elevator.

"Fine." Abby sat on the side of Ziva's desk.

"Get to work," Gibbs said from a few paces away, knowing that no one was moving, despite having his back to them.

DiNozzo and McGee rushed to their desks.

"You heard Gibbs. Get to work." Tony put his feet on his desk. "I'll supervise."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled as he went into the elevator.

"Right." DiNozzo sat up. "I'll see if I can get a list of companies that sell the Rohypnol Mawher used on Abby."

The elevator closed and Abby looked to Ziva nervously.

Ziva remained complete still. She was analyzing Abby, who seemed reluctant to move. She rested a hand on Abby's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Just great." Abby's voice was glum and she stared the floor.

"What can I do to help?" Ziva asked.

"Nothing." Abby sighed pitifully. "I have no Caf-Pow." She brought her gaze up and looked into Ziva's eyes seeking comfort. "I have to go downstairs to my lab where I will be all alone, defenseless, and working on a stupid break-in case while the F-freakin'-B-I is working on _my_ evidence."

"You are nervous about being alone?" Ziva asked.

Abby stared at Ziva. "Well, yeah."

"I have to make several dozen calls," Ziva said quietly. "Perhaps I could make them from the lab?"

Abby let out a relived sigh and rushed toward Ziva. "That would be so great."

"I'll follow up on the info you emailed me," McGee said. "I can have the new employee files faxed over and see if anything looks suspicious."

"Come on." Ziva nodded toward the door to the stairwell.

"Why the stairs?" Abby asked. She knew any action Ziva took had to have a tactical advantage, and Abby was curious.

"I was remiss when we arrived. The elevator can break down," Ziva pointed out. "The elevator has only one entrance, which makes you a perfect target as you exit." She led Abby across the room. "The stairwell offers a reliable way to get to your lab, and in the event of a security breech, you have two ways to escape; up or down."

"Hmm." Abby tucked her hand around Ziva's arm.

"Also, since I am escorting you, it gives me a chance to clear the stairwells, make sure no one is hiding in them." Ziva reached for the door with one hand, using the other to guide Abby to a stop. She looked in the stairwell and only allowed Abby to follow once she was certain it was safe.

The door closed behind them and McGee stared for several moments, silently dissecting the previous few minutes.

DiNozzo was not silent. "They seem pretty chummy."

"It makes sense," McGee said. "Ziva is probably the most effective bodyguard possible." He logged onto his computer.

"Man, I'd love to join their little sleepovers." DiNozzo got a far-away look in his eyes.

McGee glared. "Remember how nervous Abby was last time? Just because she's leaning on Ziva doesn't mean you should make DiNozzo comments."

"I have a reputation to uphold," DiNozzo said primly. "No one else is gonna' keep the testosterone levels up." He winced when he felt a slap at the base of his skull.

"We don't pay you to be a frat boy, DiNozzo." Gibbs went to his desk, sat, and opened a file. "I suggest you start by finding where Mawher got the Rohypnol."

"Sure thing, Boss," DiNozzo said. He rubbed the back of his head. He wondered where Gibbs had disappeared to and how he had gotten back so quickly.

* * *

Half the day was gone and there were no leads on Mikel Mawher. Ziva was frustrated, but she was committed to finding Abby's stalker. McGee and DiNozzo had already been to six locations and found nothing more than dead ends.

Abby was thoroughly bored. She spent half her time putting samples of trace evidence into the mass spectrometer, and the other half stealing glances at Ziva as the beautiful Israeli made calls from the phone across the room. Abby had been momentarily amused by the fact that the Marines had taken their uniforms to a dry cleaner called Swabby's, but its entertainment value faded as the day slowly passed and her boredom increased.

Ziva was frustrated by the lack of leads, but continued undaunted. "And when did Mr. Evers start working for your company?" Ziva asked into the phone. "Two weeks?" She took notes as she spoke. "Could you describe him?"

Abby leaned to one side so she could see Ziva around the computer monitor she was using. She smiled, and took the opportunity to openly stare. Ziva was wearing jeans, and the slightly loose fit was more alluring than any skintight dress. She sighed.

Ziva turned to check on Abby, then focused on her phone call. "Is he working today?" Ziva seemed pleased. "We will be coming by. Do not mention this to him. I would be… displeased." She underlined a few works in her notes. "Thank you, for your time." She hung up and stood.

"Did you find him?" Abby asked hopefully.

"It is only a lead," Ziva pointed out. "But I will check it."

"You're leaving?" Abby rushed to Ziva's side. "Who's gonna' guard me and keep me all safe?"

"Would you like me to have a Marine guard sent down?" Ziva asked.

"No," Abby said with a pathetic sigh.

"Which in Abby-speak means… yes?" Ziva translated.

Abby nodded.

"As you wish," Ziva whispered huskily and winked at Abby, thinking of the movie from the previous night. Ziva picked up the phone and dialed. "And I will not leave until the guard is here. Is that acceptable?"

Abby smiled and actually skipped back to her computer. She listened as Ziva made the arrangements, but then she heard the beep of her mass spectrometer and went to see what the findings were. Her test results made her forget Mikel Mawher. "That is not good," she whispered. She paused and then petted the mass spectrometer. "Not you, baby. You were very good. I meant, what we, meaning you, found is not good."

Ziva hung up the phone and came closer. "What did you find?" Ziva asked curiously.

"Well, the boring theft of Marine uniforms just took a sinister detour into Ziva-the-Spy-Queen-land." Abby motioned for Ziva to come closer.

Ziva moved next to Abby, so close she could feel the heat coming off of Abby's hip. "That is not good," she said when she read the results of the trace evidence scan.

"What's not good?" Gibbs came through the doors. He was carrying a can of Mountain Dew, which he held up.

Abby's hand shot out and snagged the beverage in a split second. "This is _so_ not Caf-Pow," she said as she opened the can and took a huge gulp. "Ahh!" she said after another gulp. "But it will do in a pinch. At least until I can convince Ziva the Spy Queen to let me have Caf-Pow."

Gibbs smirked. He agreed with Ziva's rules, but he'd let her be the heavy. "It's as close to Caf-Pow as the Spy Queen will allow." He cleared his throat. "What did you find?"

Abby took another long drink, holding up her other hand to silence Gibbs while she took in satisfying gulps of the life giving caffeine. "Well, Master Mass Spectrometer found Cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine. Not good," she finally said.

"Also known as RDX," Ziva volunteered.

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "I know. It's used as a component in a dozen different military explosives."

"That's not all," Abby said. "I also found traces of Pentaerythritol tetranitrate."

"PETN, or pentrite," Ziva said grimly. "Combine those two and you get…"

"Semtex," Gibbs said.

"Semtex," Ziva agreed, nodding her head.

"Definitely not good," Abby said. "Whoever stole those Marine uniforms has demolition quality explosives similar to C-4, and, as we all know, Semtex is more stabile and tolerant of a broader temperature range than C-4 which means it's much more versatile."

"And difficult to detect," Ziva added.

"Good work, Abby." Gibbs kissed her cheek. "We have a BOLO on Mawher and half a dozen agencies are running background checks looking for him. Everyone here has been on this since Saturday night, but now we've got a possible terrorist op going on here."

Ziva nodded in agreement, her mind already making lists of possible targets.

"I know," Abby said sincerely. "You guys have other cases."

Gibbs nodded to Abby and then turned to Ziva. "You've got a lot more experience tracking terrorist, so I want you to take point on this investigation. That is, if the Spy Queen is taking cases?" Gibbs asked her.

"Of course," Ziva agreed. "But I also have to interview a new hire at a local company. He fits Mawher's description. Should I hand it off to McGee?"

"Where?" Gibbs asked.

"Harbor Street," Ziva answered.

Abby was listening with interest.

"Go there first," Gibbs said. "Then meet McGee and DiNozzo at the dry cleaners. They can work the scene before you get there."

Ziva looked at Abby, then back to Gibbs. She raised her eyebrows in silent question.

Gibbs read the exchange and sighed. "I'll guard Abby until the Marine you requested arrives." He leaned against Abby's desk. "Go," he told Ziva.

Ziva nodded and turned to Abby. "I will be here to take you home tonight. Do not leave with anyone else." She didn't bother to ask how Gibbs knew about the Marine guard. The man truly seemed to have psychic abilities.

Abby nodded. She watched Ziva hurry toward the door. "Be careful!"

Ziva turned and smiled shyly. "Always," she whispered, and then she spun and was out of view in a few brief seconds.

Gibbs watched the exchange, but said nothing. It concerned him. He could see more sparks than usual between the two women and was worried that Abby might be falling for the Mossad officer. He liked Ziva, but as Abby's surrogate father figure, he didn't want a trained assassin chasing after his little Abby.

"What?" Abby demanded.

"Nothing," Gibbs said quietly. He sipped his coffee. "Nothing at all."


	2. Close Protection Officer 5-8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Ziva's visit to the company on Harbor Street didn't give her any leads to Mawher, but it did provide something useful. The company was a redistribution center for beverages, specifically, a proprietary beverage available only as a fountain drink at a small chain of convenience stores. The beverage in question was Caf-Pow. It had been a long shot, but it was the last place Ziva could think to check for Mawher. The distribution manger was an attractive man who had been both helpful and flirtatious. Ziva told him that a friend was being stalked, and that until the stalker was apprehended, that friend must suffer the absence of Caf-Pow. The man had offered an excellent solution, one that was sure to please Abby.

McGee and DiNozzo were dispatched to the burglary scene. Their search of _Swabby's Dry Cleaner_ had yielded no other leads. The uniforms belonged to three Marines. They had never served together, didn't work in the same fields, and had never even met each other.

Ziva came through the front door of _Swabby's_ and nodded to McGee. He was busy looking over computer files with Sam Nelson, the owner.

"Nice of you to join us, Ziva," DiNozzo said. He was leaning against the wall looking bored.

"Did you find anything?" Ziva asked, ignoring his taunt.

"Absolutely nothing," DiNozzo said. "Oh, wait, there was a suspicious lint trap, but it turned out to be nothing."

"Where was the trace evidence found?" she asked.

DiNozzo sighed and pushed off the wall. "Back here," he said in an indifferent tone. He walked over and pointed to a broken window near the back entrance. "The glass was broken from the outside. When the perpetrator climbed through the window he left goo on the window frame."

"Goo?" Ziva asked, suddenly realizing DiNozzo didn't know about the lab report yet. She knelt and studied the broken glass.

"Goo," DiNozzo said again. "Gunk. Sticky stuff. Crap you'd expect to find on the bottom of a shoe."

"Goo?" Ziva asked sweetly. "In other words, the Semtex plastic explosive residue Abby found?" She loved getting the better of DiNozzo. It tended to wipe the smug look off his face, at least momentarily.

"What?" McGee asked. His fingers paused on the keyboard. "Did Abbs find that?"

Ziva nodded, but continued studying the floor.

DiNozzo's demeanor instantly changed. "That doesn't belong on the bottom of a shoe." He paused. "Well, maybe your shoe."

"Do you spend much time thinking about my shoes?" Ziva asked. She moved across the room toward the storage area.

McGee left the computer and joined the other two agents. "He's shoe obsessed," he pointed toward DiNozzo's expensive footwear.

"Glass debris on the floor," Ziva said as she followed the thief's path. "It goes in a direct path to where the items were stolen, no deviation. How did they know where the uniforms were?" She stood in front of a huge motorized device that held the clothing waiting to be retrieved by customers. "There are hundreds of items here, maybe thousands." She glanced over to where the owner was standing. "Are these listed on the computer by customer?"

Mr. Nelson looked up. "They're listed by number," he said. "You need a ticket to pick the item up. Well, unless you have an account." He rubbed his bushy moustache.

McGee interrupted. "All of the Marines who had clothing stolen had accounts."

Ziva went over to the owner. "How would you find their clothing, if they have an account?"

"Well," Mr. Nelson twirled one side of his moustache. "The clothing would be listed under their account number and you could just use the computer to pull the item to the front." He typed in a number and hit enter. The clothing rack spun for a moment and then stopped. "The item stops there." He pointed to the front counter where the thief had taken the items.

"Was anything else stolen?" Ziva went behind the front of the counter and bent down to scan the floor.

"Not that I know of," Nelson answered. "These Marines pick up their uniforms early, right after I open. That's how I realized they were missing."

"So we do not know what else may have been taken." Ziva was still scanning the floor. She stood when she found nothing and put both hands on her hips. She smiled and then went to a nearby trashcan.

DiNozzo sighed as he watched Ziva pull on a pair of latex gloves and remove the lid of the trashcan.

She reached to one side and pulled a piece of paper stuck to a piece of gum on the side of the can. "Bongo!" she said triumphantly. She opened the paper and saw that there were four numbers written on it.

"I think you mean, bingo," DiNozzo said as he moved to her side. "Nice dumpster diving, but this has four numbers, not three. You are holding someone's gum encrusted trash that has nothing to do with our case."

"My case," Ziva said. She went to the computer and motioned McGee over. She held the numbers for him to see. "Check these."

He quickly entered the first number. "Lieutenant Davis," he told Ziva, and then glared at DiNozzo. "Robbery victim number one." He checked the second number. "Captain Stockton, vic number three." He nodded and smiled at Ziva. "This is our last vic."

"And that one?" Ziva pointed to the last number.

"Checking," McGee said as he typed. His eyes widened. "Oh." He turned and met Ziva's expectant gaze. "Lieutenant Amit Stavi."

"That name is Israeli," Ziva said grimly. "Where is his clothing?"

"I'll check," Mr. Nelson said as he looked at the paper and then went to the revolving rack and entered the number. "He's a nice man, works for the Israeli Security Agency. Handsome uniform, olive green with khaki. Always needs to look his best." He waited as the rack spun and then stopped. "I think he works at the embassy." He frowned at the rack. "There should be two freshly pressed uniforms here. They're gone."

"How bad is this?" McGee asked.

"If he works at the embassy, he could be Shin Bet," Ziva said, her expression full of dread. When she saw that neither DiNozzo nor McGee understood she explained. "Shin Bet is the Israeli Security Agency's equivalent of your secret service. They work at embassies or protect dignitaries."

"That can't be good," McGee whined.

"So not good," DiNozzo said.

"What would someone want with Marine and Israeli uniforms?" McGee asked.

"Any number of things," Ziva said. "None of them good." She slammed her hand into the wall. "Why would Stavi send his uniform to a public cleaner? That is a direct violation of protocol."

"I'm better at getting the stains out than the embassy staff," Mr. Nelson said defensively. "And when I'm finished pressing a uniform, I guarantee no wrinkles."

"Wrinkles?" Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Your wrinkle free uniform just may cause an international incident." She shoved the front door open and turned toward McGee. "Get Stavi's address so we can pick him up. Now," she said as she hurried toward her car. She was dialing her phone as she stormed down the sidewalk.

"Not good," McGee said.

* * *

Abby always knew when something was wrong in the NCIS building. Something was currently very wrong. "We're going upstairs, Wilbur," she told her Marine guard.

"Ma'am?" He moved to her side.

"Something is hinky," she told him, pointing at him and squinting her green eyes. "Can't you feel the hinky vibe?"

He looked at her with a bewildered expression.

"Of course you can't." Abby patted his shoulder. "You're not even used to the building's normal vibe. How could I expect you to detect the hinky vibe?" She looked to the stairs, knowing she should follow Ziva's instructions, but the intensity of the hinky vibe overrode that. She stepped into the elevator with Wilbur and tapped her foot as she waited to reach her destination. The door opened, and the first thing she heard was Ziva screaming in fast, short sentences like machinegun bursts. Abby had no idea what was being said because Ziva wasn't speaking English.

McGee's eyes were as wide as silver dollars as he watched Ziva arguing in Hebrew with an Israeli Intelligence officer who had just arrived.

"Hey," Gibbs yelled. "If you can't keep it down, at least yell in English so the rest of us can follow along."

Ziva took a deep breath and held it for a moment before releasing it.

"Major Alon," Gibbs said as politely as possible. "Why don't we take this into the interrogation area."

"My people are not to blame for this," Alon said bitterly.

Ziva's eyes flashed with anger. "Your imbecilic officer sent his uniform to a public dry cleaner," Ziva yelled.

"And it has caused no security breech," Alon snapped.

"Only because the terrorists haven't acted yet," Ziva pointed out.

"You can't know that," Alon said with a sneer.

"Tistom tapeh, yanaal," Ziva said in a disgusted tone, telling him _'Shut up, idiot'_ in their native language.

Abby backed up until she was leaning against the wall. She grabbed Wilbur and yanked him to her side. "This is just getting good," she whispered.

Wilbur nodded, but he looked more nervous than interested.

"Interrogation," Gibbs ordered.

Ziva rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath in at least three languages, none of them English, but she did as she was told and walked past Gibbs toward the interrogation area. She briefly met Abby's eyes and shot her an angry glare, then nodded toward the stairwell before hurrying off.

"We are so busted, Wilbur," Abby whispered.

Ziva paced in front of the door to the first interrogation room.

Alon came alongside her. "This is a simple matter of theft," he said. It was obvious that even he didn't believe his words.

Gibbs came up beside them. "You damn well better hope it stays that way," he said. "Ziva, get in there and interview Stavi."

Alon opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance.

Gibbs was in no mood to argue. "At the moment, Stavi is only a witness in a simple theft," he stressed the word witness. "Agent DiNozzo picked him up from the embassy and is with him now, as a _witness_ ," Gibbs said. "Ziva will interview the _witness_ and make sure nothing other than a theft happens." He met Alon's eyes. "Or we can treat him as a suspect. The choice is yours."

Alon glared at Gibbs and then nodded.

"Why don't we wait in observation," Gibbs offered, though he would have rather slapped the back of Alon's head.

Ziva opened the door and calmly walked into the interrogation room. She nodded to DiNozzo who was sitting across from Stavi.

"Officer David," DiNozzo said as he stood. "Lieutenant Stavi has just been explaining to me that the stolen uniforms couldn't be his. Apparently, it's against protocol to have a uniform sent to an outside cleaner."

At the mention of her name, Stavi sat a bit straighter and studied her.

"Imagine that." Ziva acknowledged DiNozzo, and then pinned her gaze on Stavi, gauging every weakness of her prey.

Stavi looked nervously around the room.

Ziva read a few of Stavi's reactions and had all the information necessary to interrogate the man. She turned to Tony. "Agent DiNozzo, I can handle the interrogation on my own, thank you."

DiNozzo nodded and started toward the door. Ziva's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Could you bring me a bottle of water, please?" she asked nonchalantly.

DiNozzo nodded and left the room.

Ziva moved behind the empty chair that was directly across the table from Stavi. She rested both hands on the back of the chair and continued studying him.

"I told him all I know," Stavi said.

Ziva merely nodded, not speaking. Her eyes never left his as an uncomfortable silence built between them. "Do you like being in the US?" she finally asked. The question and tone were conversational, but her eyes were empty, devoid of emotion like a shark's.

"Yes," Stavi said slowly.

"I find the Americans a bit too soft," Ziva said. She patted her firm abdomen and smiled. "A bit too much good food softens the body." She paced in front of the table, slowly, like a shark circling its prey after picking up the faint hint of blood in the water. "Of course, they haven't experienced daily war in the streets. That softens them, too." She met his eyes before adding, "in a different way."

He slowly nodded, not really having an answer.

"Are you soft, Lieutenant Stavi?" Ziva asked. The shark was now circling her prey.

"No." He shook his head.

There was a tap, and Ziva went over and opened the door for DiNozzo and took the water bottle. "Thank you." She closed the door without waiting for him to reply. She locked the deadbolt and came back to the table. "I think you _are_ soft, Lieutenant Stavi." Ziva placed the bottle on the table and sat in the chair facing him.

"Ma'am?" Stavi asked.

"Well, you obviously broke protocol." She leaned back in her chair, leaving the water untouched on the table. The shark was tightening her circle.

"I explained to your other agent," Stavi said. "I don't send out my uniforms." He relaxed into a casual position, but the move didn't look natural.

"Soft?" Ziva said as if asking herself a question. "Or a traitor?"

Stavi sat up abruptly. "I am no traitor."

"Well, we _know_ you are a liar." Ziva said then sighed, "and not a very good one, at that."

He opened his mouth to speak and Ziva held up one hand, silencing him. He didn't know it yet, but the shark was inches away.

"Do not insult my intelligence," she said quietly. Her tone was dangerous and sharp. Her words sliced as deep as any shark's teeth. "You had an account at the dry cleaners, in your own name, using a credit card." She lowered her hand. "So, you were either too stupid to realize you were leaving a paper trail, or arrogant enough to think we would not check your story."

Stavi puffed his chest with false bravado, but his voice cracked revealing his growing fear. "You think because they send in a beautiful NCIS officer with an Israeli accent I'll say whatever you want?"

"Whatever I want? I want you to tell me the truth." Ziva picked up the water bottle and turned it in her hand. "The more time we waste waiting for you to admit your mistake, the more time the terrorists have to carry out their plot." She continued turning the bottle and studied it. This shark enjoyed playing with her meal.

In the observation room, DiNozzo stood next to Gibbs and Alon. "Why did she make me fetch her water like a waitress if she's not even gonna' drink it?"

"Watch and learn, DiNozzo," Gibbs said quietly.

Alon was focused intently on Ziva. "How did an Israeli woman join NCIS?" he asked.

"On permanent loan," Gibbs said cryptically.

"David?" Alon asked. It was a common name. He knew a man with the same last name, and he was beginning to think they were related.

"Yep," Gibbs said noncommittally.

Alon studied Ziva with added interest.

In the interrogation room, Stavi squirmed in place. "I don't know anything about a terrorist plot."

"Perhaps you do not," Ziva said. She glanced at the large mirror on the wall and then back to Stavi. "Do you want to know why I am interviewing you alone?" The shark was coming in for kill.

"They think I'll talk because you will remind me of home?" He smiled, but he was obviously frightened.

"Plausible deniability," Ziva said. She leaned forward and put the water bottle in the center of the table. "As I said, the Americans are soft. They do not like to get their hands dirty." She held her hands out and studied them. "They leave that to me."

"You work for NCIS," Stavi pointed out. "You are bound by the same laws."

"With," Ziva said.

Stavi's brow crinkled in confusion.

"I work _with_ NCIS," Ziva corrected. "You said _for_. Amazing what a difference one tiny word can make." She reached behind her back and pulled her dagger from its resting place in her belt and placed it casually on the table. "I am on loan to NCIS." She stood and picked up the knife and paced, spinning the knife with the kind of skill that took years to develop. "In our country, we learned to tailor our… methods… to whatever we had on hand." She held the knife up for him to get a better look. "But I find blood to be so… incriminating." She smoothly tucked the knife into its hiding place at the small of her back, never taking her eyes off of Stavi.

"And who are you on loan from?" he asked. He swallowed, though his throat was tight and his mouth was suddenly dry.

"I had to adapt." Ziva ignored his question. She picked up the water bottle and went around the table and sat on the tabletop, so that she was facing him, almost touching him. She smiled at him, looking like a shark eyeing a very tasty looking seal.

He scooted a few inches away but couldn't seem to break his eyes away from Ziva's. He'd seen the same dead eyes back home, and the people who had that expression scared him to the core. He felt the blood draining from his face.

Ziva continued smiling but her eyes only hardened. "Did you know that the Patriot Act legalized waterboarding?" she asked conversationally. "If you are dealing with terrorists," she added helpfully.

"I am no terrorist." Stavi's voice cracked and held a pleading tone. Sweat was beading on his upper lip. His eyes focused on the water bottle.

Ziva slowly unscrewed the cap on the water, placed the bottle directly in front of him and pinned him in place with an icy stare. She left it there for a long moment, letting him squirm in the torturous silence. Finally, she dipped her index finger into it and then intensely studied the drop on the tip of her finger.

He shifted in his chair, his eyes now locked on the water on her finger.

Ziva didn't move her fingers, but her gaze shifted to meet his eyes. "Did you know, that it is possible to drown in one tablespoon of water?" she asked as if sharing an interesting bit of trivia.

His focus drifted back and forth from the water bottle to her predatory eyes. "Who do you work for… in our country?" Stavi asked.

She leaned down close to his face, until her cheek was almost touching his so she could reach his ear. She inhaled, as if drawing in the scent of his fear.

He sat frozen, terrified to even breathe.

"Metsada," she whispered the one word in a husky tone like a lover's name. It was the term for the specialized unit that handled assassinations for Mossad. Ziva had spent years in the unit as a handler, and had performed some of the kills herself.

"I send my uniforms to _Swabby's_ twice a week!" Stavi pushed away, the chair feet scraping loudly as he tried to get as much distance from her as possible. "I know it's against protocol, but several of my commanding officers commented on my uniform being wrinkled or stained. I'm just an office worker in the embassy." He sucked in a shaking breath, near tears now. "I didn't think I would put anyone at risk. The Marines said _Swabby's_ was the best place in town. The Marines trust the owner. I thought it was safe. I swear I thought it was safe." He was now visibly shaking as he tried to tell her everything she might want to hear.

Ziva held up one finger and he immediately stopped talking. She picked up the water bottle and took a long, slow drink and then licked her lips. "Write down every person you have ever had a conversation with about your uniform or the dry cleaners."

Stavi scrambled to get the notepad from the table without getting too close to Ziva. Once he had it, he scooted his chair against the wall, the furthest he could get from her, and began scribbling. He was breathing heavily, each exhale coming out in a shaking breath as if he had just run two marathons back to back.

In the other room DiNozzo was now pouting. "How does she do that?"

"Who does she work for?" Alon asked Gibbs. He hadn't heard her whispered reply, but he had his suspicions.

"Ask her," Gibbs told him. "I sure don't want to piss her off." He left the room, smiling briefly once out of Alon's view. Watching Ziva do an interrogation truly was a thing of beauty.

**CHAPTER SIX**

Abby came out of the stairwell with Wilbur in tow. She saw McGee and DiNozzo and headed toward them. She'd gotten bored in the lab while waiting for Ziva to return.

Ziva took an NCIS vehicle and left the Navy Yard, so that if she were being observed, it would appear that she had left for home alone. A few blocks away, Gibbs was picking up Ziva in his own car and returning to NCIS.

It was another layer of security Ziva insisted upon. She knew Mikel Mawher would not give up. If he didn't see Abby coming and going, he was sure to begin tracking her friends to see if they were transporting her. Which was why Ziva parked the decoy vehicle in a privately secured parking structure for a high-end apartment building. If Mawher followed Ziva 'home', he would see her car enter the lot. Ziva would then duck out of the building and meet Gibbs around the corner at a safe location.

Wilbur took his position seriously. He knew what had happened the last time Mikel Mawher had stalked Abby Sciuto. After having the dangers explained to him by McGee and DiNozzo, he was certain to be careful. After having it explained by Gibbs, he was certain to stay as alert as a cat sneaking through a _Doberman Pinscher_ kennel. After having it explained by the ever so scary Ziva David, he wasn't about to let Abby Sciuto more than two feet away from him at any moment, and he kept one hand poised to reach his weapon.

Abby smiled as she approached her two friends. McGee was sitting at his computer and DiNozzo was standing in front of McGee's desk holding up a bottle of water doing his best Ziva impersonation.

"Did you know, you can drown in one tablespoon of water?" DiNozzo mimicked Ziva's earlier interrogation and glared at McGee with Ziva inspired menace. Unfortunately, the expression made him look more constipated than frightening.

McGee looked at him dubiously.

Abby giggled. "I'm sure it was much scarier with Ziva saying it," she said.

"Scary?" DiNozzo turned to face Abby. "That guy almost wet his pants like a little girl." He looked back at McGee. "Probie would have wet his pants for sure."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "I'll make a note to never go to the water cooler alone with Ziva," he said tolerantly. He looked at Wilbur and then Abby. "She ever try to drown you?"

Abby smiled. "Nope."

"There you go," McGee told DiNozzo. "I'd say Abby feels perfectly safe with Ziva and water. Bet she'd even go swimming with Ziva."

Ziva stepped into view from around the corner. "As soon as Mawher has been captured, I will take you swimming anywhere you like."

"Gaa!" DiNozzo took a leap backwards.

Abby let out a startled squeak. "Ziva!" She rested a hand on her own chest and took a gulp of air. "It doesn't do any good to have Wilbur guard me if you're gonna' give me a freakin' heart attack."

Wilbur's hand was on his weapon and his body was tense. He sighed and slowly relaxed.

"Nice reflexes," Ziva complimented. She turned to DiNozzo. "You jumped like a little girl, Tony."

DiNozzo blustered, unable to come up with a reply.

"Abby?" Ziva asked. "Ready to go?"

"My chariot awaits," Abby said with forced enthusiasm. "See you tomorrow?" she asked Wilbur.

"Yes, ma'am," the Marine replied. He smiled shyly, not looking at Ziva, as if she would read his thoughts and know he was afraid of her.

Ziva paused and studied the Marine for a moment.

He swallowed with a gulp and rushed toward the nearest exit.

"Come on." Abby yanked Ziva's arm and pulled her toward the stairwell. "Leave him alone." She waved at her coworkers. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Need some company?" DiNozzo asked. He hadn't been to Ziva's for dinner since he had dated Jeanne Benoit as an undercover assignment and he missed Ziva's cooking and company. Since that assignment had ended, something between them had shifted.

Ziva glared at him. "No visitors. I do not want anyone leading Mawher to my door."

"And we have to follow up these leads," McGee reminded DiNozzo.

"I thought this was Ziva's case?" DiNozzo whined.

"I am delegating," Ziva said as she opened the door to the stairwell and then leaned in to make sure it was safe. Once she was convinced it was secure, she allowed Abby to follow.

"What do you think they do all night?" DiNozzo asked when the door closed behind the two women. "Bubble baths for two?"

"I'll be sure to let Ziva know your theory." McGee held up the water bottle and smiled.

Tony grabbed the bottle. "You would have wet your pants, Probie."

* * *

Ziva opened the door to her apartment and carefully scanned the living room before guiding Abby inside.

"Come on." Abby jumped up and down. "What's in these duffle bags?" She placed both bags on the ground and then stomped her feet like a three year old throwing a tantrum. She had found the bags in the morgue van and was dying of curiosity.

"Abby," Ziva said sharply. She took Abby by the hand and led her to the bedroom, then checked for danger before going inside with Abby in tow.

Abby was quiet. She realized that until she humored Ziva, the mystery of the giant duffle bags would not be solved. She watched Ziva bolt the door, then check the closet for intruders, then the master bathroom, and finally under the bed. Once Ziva was certain the bedroom was completely secure, she turned toward Abby. "Wait…"

"Here," Abby finished for her. "Hide in here while you search the apartment. Got it." She sat on the bed and swung her feet.

Ziva paused at the door and waited.

Abby sighed and went to Ziva's side. "Okay. Bolt the door behind you and _then_ wait in the room. Got it." She rolled her eyes.

Abby had no reference for the things Ziva had seen in her short life. Ziva knew that a moment of distraction or deviation from the safety plan could cost lives. She wouldn't risk Abby. She reached out and lifted Abby's chin. "Please, humor me."

Abby looked into Ziva's expressive eyes and nodded. _'Like I could deny her anything,'_ Abby thought. She dutifully bolted the door and waited. She knew that Ziva was being careful because she had experienced very real threats in the world, both Abby's world and Ziva's own spy-filled world. Abby frowned and leaned toward the door, suddenly intent on listening for any sign of trouble outside.

After a few minutes, Ziva knocked. "It is me."

Abby started to unbolt the door and then smiled. "Me who?"

"The Spy Queen," Ziva answered. She blushed, wishing she hadn't let Abby pick the code phrase.

Abby swung the door open. "Duffle bags?" she demanded.

"Go sit at the table like a good girl and I will bring your surprise." Ziva sighed, deciding she should just get used to the idea that Abby had stolen her heart.

"I love surprises." Abby sprinted through the apartment and sat impatiently at the dining room table. "Is it a change of clothes? Because I need more clothes. You should let me go to my place to get some of my own things." She nervously tapped her hands rapidly on the table as if playing the drums.

Ziva raised both eyebrows and tossed the larger duffle bag onto the table. "McGee said there are enough clothes for a week."

"Yes," Abby said excitedly. She dug through her things with glee, and then froze when she came to healthy selection of underwear. "Wait, you sent McGee to get my underwear?"

"It was either McGee or Tony," Ziva pointed out. She paused for effect and then added. "Or Gibbs."

"Good point," Abby agreed. "So, what's in the other bag?" She wiggled excitedly.

Ziva lifted the bag, which was quite heavy, onto the table. "I was going to give this to you after dinner."

"Ziva!" Abby pawed at the bag, deciding to help herself.

"Patience." She swatted away Abby's hands. "I am taking pity on you, but I could still change my mind." She unzipped the bag, keeping the contents hidden. She dug around the duffle bag and finally pulled out a two-litter bottle of carbonated water, which she proudly presented to Abby as if it were the finest champagne.

"Oh, Ziva…" Abby said in an extremely unimpressed tone. "You really shouldn't have."

Ziva gave her a stern glare.

"Really, it's too much." Abby's scowl made it perfectly clear that she was less than impressed.

"That goes in a glass of ice," Ziva explained.

"Wow," Abby said in a monotone voice. "I am so thrilled. Maybe we should get me some valium to contain my excitement."

Ziva chuckled at her friend's displeasure, knowing things were about to change. "Five parts carbonated water and then you add one part this, and viola."

"Viola?" Abby asked with the teeniest bit of interest.

"Viola." Ziva pulled a cardboard box out of the duffle bag. It was a commercial box containing a Mylar bag filled with syrup concentrate. Written across the side in bright bold type was the equivalent of Abby's Holy Grail, the word ' ** _Caf-Pow.'_**

Abby took in a huge gasp of air that would have burst a lesser woman's lungs. "Caf-Pow!" she squealed. She leapt to her feet and ran her hands over the box like it was a delicate artifact in King Tut's tomb. "Caf-Pow syrup? How did you get Caf-Pow syrup?" She rested her forehead on the box and took a few seconds to savior the moment. "Oh, sweet Caf-Pow, I've missed you." She actually caressed the box like a long absent lover.

"You like?" Ziva asked with a smirk.

Abby lifted her head and rushed to Ziva side. "I love it!" She took Ziva's face in both hands and kissed her on the lips. She had meant for it to be a kiss of thanks, a quasi-friendly, quasi- I like you more than a friend and don't know how to move forward kiss. She really had. She had certainly not planned for the thank you kiss to involve dipping her tongue into Ziva's parted lips. That hadn't been part of the plan.

Abby was shocked, though not displeased, to find herself twisted around and guided onto the table and straddled by a very aroused Ziva. The Caf-Pow was now the last thing on Abby's mind. Her mind was clouded by the delicious feeling of Ziva's compact body moving on top of her, the feeling of Ziva's rock hard belly sliding against her, and the overwhelming sensation of Ziva's soft breasts pressed deliciously against her own chest.

After several minutes of increasing passion, Ziva finally broke the kiss to take in several deep gasps of breath. "I guess you liked the Caf-Pow?" She smiled down at Abby.

Abby nodded, her expression dazed. She reached up and traced Ziva's bottom lip with one finger. "You kissed me." Her voice was full of wonder.

Ziva settled into a comfortable spot on top of Abby, obviously not planning to give up the coveted position. "Technically, you kissed me."

"Technically, you knocked my socks off," Abby said, still looking a bit out of sorts.

"I am trained to act when an opportunity presents itself," Ziva pointed out. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement, and something Abby hadn't ever seen there before, sincere, bone deep happiness.

Abby wrapped her arms around Ziva's waist, content under the weight of her beautiful companion. "You've been wanting to kiss me?" she whispered, not quite believing her luck.

Ziva smiled a bit shyly. "Very much."

"You did promise that I could play with your software tonight." Abby moved her hands lower and squeezed Ziva's shapely derrière.

"We agreed to a date, if I recall." Ziva's smile widened.

Abby nodded. Her eyes drifted slightly closed and she arched up into Ziva, smiling when the action made Ziva moan. She moved one hand up and tangled it in Ziva's hair, gripping the French braid in the back, and guiding their mouths together again.

Ziva kissed exactly the way she worked, with complete focus and attention to every detail. Abby had often wondered what kissing Ziva would be like, but her imagination did not measure up to reality. Ziva was tender and passionate in just the right combination. Each time Abby would break her mouth away, Ziva would move her delicious barrage of kisses to Abby's throat until Abby's mouth couldn't survive their parting any longer. Abby would whimper and guide Ziva back to her. It felt like she was breaking to pieces again and again, or just maybe, the pieces were coming together for the first time.

Minutes passed and Abby was amazed at the level of passion building within her. Each time she thought she couldn't possibly get any more aroused, Ziva's hand would move to some new area of skin and Abby would reach new levels. She decided she'd better act quickly or she'd be begging Ziva to make love to her on the dining room table. She shifted her weight and suddenly she was on top of Ziva and the position offered fabulous new choices. She lowered her face and began kissing Ziva's throat.

Ziva shivered. "Abby," she whispered uncertainly. "Wait," she asked, though every inch of her body wanted nothing more than for Abby to continue.

"Don't wanna wait," Abby said as she pulled back. "Do you want me to wait?" She bit her lip and gave Ziva a questioning glance. "Really?" She dipped her hand under Ziva's shirt and her eyes closed at the heat and softness she found. "Oh. My. God."

"I do not want to stop," Ziva said with difficulty. "But I think we should stop." She arched her back, offering more of herself to Abby's exploring hand.

"Are you sure?" Abby's hand was now at the bottom of Ziva's bra and her fingertips were slowly moving the fabric out of the way.

Ziva nodded and swallowed hard. She placed her hand over Abby's and guided both out from under her shirt. She closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and smiled when she felt Abby's forehead press to her own.

"That was totally hot," Abby whispered.

"Umm, hmm," Ziva agreed without opening her eyes.

"And we're stopping…because?" Abby asked. Her eyes were closed as well, and she was playfully resting her forehead on Ziva's.

Ziva lifted her head a bit to move Abby's head up a few inches, then put her own head back on the pillow to create some space between them. Ziva opened her eyes. "Because if we do not stop now, we will end up making love here on the table."

Abby shifted her weight slightly and chuckled. "And again, we're stopping…because?" She ran her fingers across Ziva's cheek.

"I want more for us than this." Ziva nodded toward the table.

Abby sighed in defeat. "Not exactly comfortable," she agreed, though she was a big fan of spontaneity. "And I suppose this isn't a tactically sound location," she suggested.

"No, it is not," Ziva agreed. She leaned up and gave Abby a quick kiss.

Abby's stomach chose that moment to growl.

"And you obviously need dinner," Ziva pointed out. She gave Abby an adoring look and smiled. "It will give us time to talk about things," she said gently.

"Things?" Abby combed her fingers through Ziva's hair. "Good things?" she asked nervously. "Or… I'm getting cold feet things?"

"Cold feet?" Ziva asked. She leaned into Abby's fingers so that Abby began massaging her scalp.

"Cold feet, changing your mind about this… us," Abby explained.

"I am not changing my mind about us," Ziva assured her. She rolled to the side and untangled from Abby. "I just want us to be in the same page." She pulled Abby up so they were sitting next to each other. "Why would changing my mind be called cold feet? American sayings make no sense at all."

" _On_ the same page." Abby corrected and then leaned her head onto Ziva's shoulder and sighed happily. "I love the way your mind works," she whispered, and then her chest began to shake as she held back a laugh. She wrapped her arm around Ziva and leaned over to kiss her neck. "I love the way your lips work, too." She moved her hand up and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind Ziva's ear. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked sincerely.

Ziva turned toward Abby and studied her face. "You are so beautiful," Ziva whispered. "I have never seen eyes such an incredible shade of green." She used her fingers to trace Abby's cheekbone. "There were so many times I was speaking to you and simply lost my track of thought because these eyes are so distracting."

"Train of thought." Abby turned her head so she could kiss Ziva's exploring fingers. "What do you need to talk about?"

"Ah, yes." Ziva sighed and moved away from Abby and stood. "Perhaps I should start dinner?" She moved toward the kitchen and began looking through the refrigerator for ingredients.

Abby hopped off the table and went to the kitchen. She moved behind Ziva and snuggled against her, but being careful not to startle her. "Hey," she whispered into Ziva's hair next to her ear. "There's no reason to be nervous. Just tell me."

Ziva sighed again and then slowly turned in Abby's arms and embraced her. "I am not interested in a one night stand," she said bluntly.

"Good." Abby smiled warmly. "Because neither am I." She felt Ziva relax in her arms. "My feelings for you aren't new. I've been having them for a while."

Ziva nodded in agreement. "I do not want to ruin our friendship. You are very important to me."

"Me too," Abby said. "Well, me too about you. You're important to me."

Ziva laughed and squeezed Abby closer. "I know you had something with McGee…"

"Timmy and I are over," Abby assured her.

"I know," Ziva said. "But I also know that what you had was, how do you say? …Casual."

Abby nodded.

"I do not want that with you," Ziva admitted. She looked down at the floor feeling vulnerable. It was not a feeling she liked or was used to having.

Abby pressed her lips to Ziva's temple and cradled her gently. "I adore you," she whispered. "I don't know when it happened, but you got inside my heart." Her voice was low and husky. "I can't make any guarantees. No one can, but what I feel for you… it's not casual."

Ziva let out a breath and squeezed Abby tightly, only then realizing that she had been holding her breath. "You have also gotten inside my heart," she whispered. "I do not let people inside, Abby." She pulled back and met Abby's eyes. "I liked Lieutenant Sanders," she said thinking about the soldier who had been poisoned by radiation. She shook her head, her thoughts coming from every direction at once. "He was a good man, but as much as I liked him, he did not get in here." Ziva pointed to her own chest. Her fingers lingered there and traced the pattern of the golden six-pointed star. "His death was such a waste," Ziva said sadly. "Maybe he could have gotten inside, but there was no time." She pulled away and paced.

Abby waited, letting Ziva have all the time she needed.

"Maybe I just think he could have. Maybe because he was dying, he was safe. Maybe, I needed someone safe because I already had feelings for you when I met him." Ziva paused and looked back to Abby, who was patiently waiting. "It is very messy in here." Ziva tapped her own skull. "Are you sure you want to start something with me?"

Abby moved slowly toward Ziva, nodding the entire time. "Yeah, I'm sure." She pulled Ziva into a brief kiss. "Very sure."

"Last chance to run," Ziva offered with a smile.

"The only place I want to run is to the bedroom." Abby took Ziva's hand and tugged her toward the hallway. "Dinner can wait. I want dessert."

"Well, I do have a sweet tooth," Ziva said. She let her eyes roam over Abby's curves, and then paused. "Do you not want your Caf-Pow first?"

Abby shook her head and continued backing toward the hall. "I have everything I want right here." Her eyes sparkled. "Well, unless you have your handcuffs."

Ziva laughed, but shook her head. "That is one of the things we will need to discuss."

"Hey, I don't expect kinky restraints the first time," Abby said quickly. She had led them to the hall and was well on her way to the bedroom door.

"My dear Abigail," Ziva said with a sexy leer. "There are so many ways to have fun without handcuffs." She pulled Abby to a stop. She didn't add that handcuffs lost a lot of their appeal when you used them everyday to apprehend criminals. Restraints of any kind lost their appeal when a person had been confined under real world conditions and tortured, as Ziva had on several occasions. Ziva shuddered. That was a discussion for another time. This night was for pleasure. "Perhaps you just have not met the right woman," she suggested playfully.

"I think you might be right," Abby agreed. She had been joking about the restraints, but something told her Ziva wouldn't leave her unsatisfied no matter what the circumstances. Something in Ziva's eyes revealed a darker hesitation that Abby intended to ask about later.

Ziva nodded and marched down the hallway, pulling Abby along behind her and into the bedroom. She nodded toward the bed and then turned and secured the door.

Abby waited next to the bed, curious as to what Ziva would do next.

"Venez avec moi, mon petit Chaton," Ziva whispered as she guided Abby until she was sitting the bed.

"I have no idea what you said, but it was freakin' hot." Abby shivered as Ziva began kissing her neck.

"It is French. I said, 'come with me, my little kitten.'" Ziva blushed.

"Me-ow," Abby said happily.

Ziva knelt down and lovingly began removing Abby's clothes, first her boots, then her pants. She looked into Abby's eyes and smiled. "You are like un petit Chaton," Ziva said as soon as she had removed all of Abby's clothes except her bra and panties. "So curious and full of life." Ziva never broke her gaze as she removed all of her own clothes except her bra and panties. "Petit Chaton, playful and happy."

Abby licked her lips and watched, mesmerized as Ziva moved up the bed and settled in next to her.

"I have always thought of you as a little cat." Ziva leaned over and kissed Abby, slowly enjoying every inch of her mouth. "Just watching you makes my heart rejoice, _mon_ petit Chaton." She stressed the word meaning _my_.

"That's a nickname I can get on board with," Abby said breathlessly. "Just as long as you keep speaking French." She gasped when she felt Ziva's hand under her back unclasp her bra.

"Quelque chose que vous voulez, mon amour," Ziva promised. "Anything you want," she repeated in English, though she didn't translate the last phrase. She wasn't sure Abby was ready to be called 'my love.'

Abby rolled over and commandeered Ziva's mouth. Abby had grown up in New Orleans, so she knew exactly what 'mon amour' meant. She also knew that Ziva was probably self-conscious about translating that expression. They were just beginning. Oddly enough, it didn't bother Abby. It just sounded right.

The bed creaked as they each focused on getting the other fully undressed without stopping their kissing. Once that task was complete, each relaxed and began to explore the other's exposed skin. Abby was so incredibly aroused she couldn't understand why she hadn't already passed out. She decided to leave that mystery for another day and gave up all rational thought. Nothing existed beyond Ziva's kisses. Nothing mattered beyond Ziva's skilled touch. No one existed outside the bedroom they shared. Everything was right and good in Abby's world.

Ziva was dazed. She had imagined this night many times, but she was not prepared for the rush of emotions that came with each touch of her fingers to Abby's skin. There was no outside world. There were no threats just beyond the walls. Nothing bad could exist in the same universe as the feelings overwhelming her. For the first time in her life, Ziva knew what it meant to shut out the world, or more precisely, at this moment, this place, Abby was her world. It felt right.

* * *

Across town, Mikel Mawher sat at his computer and hacked the NCIS mainframe. Nothing mattered except finding Abby. He would find her, of that he had no doubt. She was his. Why couldn't she see that? He didn't care who he had to hurt or kill to get her. Once he had Abby, all would be right with his world.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Abby awoke to find herself wrapped around the wonderfully naked body of Ziva David, her own personal Spy Queen. That Spy Queen was now her own personal pillow as well. Abby smiled and snuggled a bit closer, relishing the heat radiating from every inch of skin that rested against Ziva. They had both fallen asleep after several lovemaking sessions and Abby was surprised to be the first to wake from their nap. _'Cat nap, or should I say Chaton nap?'_ she thought with grin. She really liked when Ziva spoke French, so much so that she was considering taking French lessons herself.

She yawned and glanced over at the clock. It was almost ten p.m. and Abby's stomach was more than ready for dinner. She was about to roll out of bed and surprise Ziva by cooking dinner, when she realized that surprising Ziva was never a good idea. The first night Abby slept in Ziva's home, the Mossad officer made it clear; wake her before wandering around.

"Ziva?" Abby whispered as quietly as she could. She gasped when Ziva's arm tightened slightly.

Ziva twisted her head so her mouth was at Abby's ear. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Everything's great." Abby exhaled slowly. She would have to get used to sleeping next to a super spy. She rose up on one elbow and leaned to give Ziva a proper greeting. She moaned into the kiss and was smiling like the village idiot when the kiss finally broke. "Wow."

"Are you getting hungry, mon Chaton?" Ziva sat up and stretched her arms over her head. The blanket pooled at her waist revealing her upper body in all its glory, but Ziva was uninhibited.

"Wow," Abby said again, this time admiring the view.

Now Ziva reacted. Her cheeks darkened to an adorable blush. She rolled her eyes and reach for the sheet.

"Nuh uh," Abby said, putting her hand over Ziva's on the sheet. "Now that I can look without being a perv for checking out my coworker, I'm gonna look." She shifted her weight until she was sitting up on bent knees and she let her eyes dance across the human landscape she had been enjoying earlier. She sighed and moved forward and took Ziva's face in one hand. "Stunning," she whispered. "I have no idea how I'm supposed to keep my hands off you at work." She placed a quick kiss on Ziva's nose and then jumped out of bed completely naked. "Feed me, woman!"

Ziva's laughter was like music. She tilted her head back and the joyful sound erupted in short staccato bursts. "As you wish, my kitten." Her eyes were pinned on Abby's exposed skin. "As for the dilemma of work, I cannot help you." She shrugged. "Now that I have explored the treasures and pleasures of Abby Sciuto, I may be unable to stop myself from tossing you onto your lab table and ravaging you."

"Works for me." Abby grabbed a tee shirt from the top of Ziva's dresser. She held it to her face and inhaled deeply it. Ziva's scent permeated the fabric, which made Abby smile. She pulled it on over her head and looked to Ziva. The former spy didn't seem to mind that she was appropriating the garment.

Another lyrical burst of laughter and Ziva was out of bed and getting herself a fresh shirt from the dresser.

After Abby's third glass of Caf-Pow, Ziva rummaged through the kitchen for ingredients to make dinner. She had a good selection of fresh vegetables and several meats, all kosher of course.

"Hey," Abby said as she sat a little straighter on the sofa. She had been studying the food Ziva was tossing onto the counter. "How about I cook you a nice New Orleans meal?"

Ziva turned and smiled almost shyly. "I would like that." She moved across the room, bent down, and kissed Abby. She meant it to be a brief kiss of thanks, but when it came to Abby, brief thank you kisses led to heated embraces, this time with Ziva falling on top of Abby on the sofa.

The kiss broke and Abby twirled her finger in Ziva's hair making ringlets on one side. "I guess you really like Cajun?"

"Just one Cajun." She tapped Abby's nose and sat up, and pulled Abby up beside her.

"I have a great recipe from the French Quarter," Abby said. She pulled Ziva onto her lap so she had better access to her hair. "Mon amore," she added with a smirk.

"You caught that?" Ziva asked, referring to her earlier use of the phrase. She glanced away, feeling exposed.

Abby gently guided Ziva's face toward her and ran her fingers over Ziva's cheek. "I don't miss much," Abby reminded her.

"No, you do not," Ziva said as she closed her eyes and enjoyed Abby's touch.

Abby's attention was drawn to Ziva's coal black hair. She ran her fingertips along Ziva's hairline, enjoying the soft skin of her face and the dark locks. Finally, she focused on the feature that had fascinated her since meeting Ziva. She used one finger to explore Ziva's widow's peak, tracing it again and again. After several moments she leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Ziva's forehead.

"Are you having fun, my kitten?" Ziva asked without opening her eyes.

"Um hmm," Abby replied. She kissed the soft skin again and then sighed. "Guess I should get to the kitchen," she said without making any effort to move or stop her caresses.

"Um hmm," Ziva agreed, but she didn't move either.

"Okay, food," Abby said. She took a deep breath, and with extreme effort, she removed her hands from Ziva's face.

Ziva opened her eyes and gave Abby a loving smile. She was having difficulty moving away from Abby. She sighed dramatically, leaned over and gave Abby a short kiss, and then climbed off her lap. "Do you mind if I make some calls while you prepare dinner?"

"Sure," Abby agreed. "Is this about the uniform thing?"

"How did you know?" Ziva turned and crinkled her brows.

"I figured you must need to call overseas, what with the time difference." Abby headed into the kitchen and started gathering the items she wanted.

"You certainly do not miss much," Ziva said. "It will be five in the morning there soon. Most of the people I need to talk to will be up already."

* * *

Abby worked in the kitchen preparing dinner. She chose French Onion Soup and a mildly spiced version of Blackened Chicken salad. She felt immediately warmed when she found the cupboard stocked with Cajun spices, just another clue that Ziva had been Abby-fying her home. Abby made the portions small, given how late they were dining. She didn't want to go to bed with a heavy meal in her belly.

As she diced the ingredients and made the soup, Abby was struck by how nice it felt to be doing something so domestic. She'd never really seen herself as the domestic type, yet here she was, cooking dinner while her woman worked late. That thought made her roll her eyes. She glanced over at Ziva and paused. Ziva had made half a dozen calls already, and it seemed she needed a different language for each one.

Ziva was attentive even when occupied with international calls. She could sense Abby's eyes on her and would look over to acknowledge her. Ziva knew the inquisitive lab tech was trying to figure out which language she was using. She surprised and delighted Abby by using rudimentary sign language to fingerspell the answer.

Ziva was currently on a long, boring call to the city of Eilat. It was on the northern tip of the Red Sea. She was chatting with an Ambassador named Josep Luz. He was a long-winded bore and a womanizing cad who tried to convince Ziva to sleep with him every time they spoke. He was also a bigger gossip than any fishwife and tended to have information about things happening all over the world.

Ziva rubbed her forehead. She was speaking in her native tongue and was glad that Abby didn't have to be subjected to hearing her deflect the amorous lecher.

Abby glanced over and frowned, seeing Ziva's discomfort.

Ziva shook her head and listened to him. She smiled at Abby and fingerspelled, misspelling 'Hebrew' as 'Hedrew' in answer to Abby raised eyebrows.

Abby put her spoon down and came over to Ziva's side and took her hand. She fingerspelled 'Hebrew' for Ziva, showing her the difference between the B and the D Ziva had misused. It was a common mistake, but Abby knew Ziva would want to be accurate.

Ziva nodded in understanding and grabbed Abby's hand and kissed her fingers, an unspoken thanks.

Abby was warmed by Ziva's affectionate action. She turned and went back to cooking. As she added a few finishing touches to the shimmering soup, she was distracted by her own thoughts. _'How could I have ever thought she was cold and emotionless?'_ she wondered. Now that she was seeing Ziva's demonstrative affection, she had a more pressing question, _'how hard does Ziva have to work to hide her gentle heart?'_

When Ziva hung up she shuddered violently. "Eww," she said grouchily. "I think I need a shower."

"Were you calling some naughty Hebrew sex chat?" Abby asked. Her eyes darted to Ziva and then back to the chicken she was blackening in a pan.

"You have no idea how accurate you are." Ziva twisted her head, sending crackling noises down her spine. "That man is eighty years old. He has been trying to seduce me since I was seventeen."

"And you missed this Mr. Grabbyhands so much you called halfway around the world to chat?" Abby asked.

"Ambassador Grabbyhands," Ziva said tolerantly. "He makes the rounds to all of the international parties, so he usually has great intel." She stared at the phone as if it was going to bite her.

"No help?" Abby tasted the chicken and then added more spices.

"No," Ziva said dejectedly. She was now glaring at the phone.

"Who are you calling next?" Abby asked. She could see the dread written across Ziva's unhappy expression.

Ziva sighed and rubbed her face with both hands. She slowly pulled her hands down and scowled. "My father."

"That is not a happy face," Abby pointed out.

Ziva's glare was briefly directed toward Abby, though it was tempered with affection.

"Would some coffee help?" Abby offered.

"I would prefer a glass of wine, a very large glass of wine," Ziva suggested. "There are several bottles in the pantry."

"I'll pick something that'll go with dinner," Abby said.

"Can you bring it to me before you open it?" Ziva asked.

"Sure," Abby said slowly, thinking that Ziva must be very picky about her wine selections. When she brought the bottle to Ziva, the Mossad officer ignored the label and studied the wax coating that completely covered the top inch of the bottle before handing it back to Abby.

"Anything I should know?" Abby asked.

Ziva shrugged and looked at the phone. "Wine corks are an excellent place to inject poisons. I dip mine in wax to allow detection."

Abby stood frozen, staring with her jaw suddenly slack.

"What?" Ziva asked. She decided she wouldn't share the fact that she was quite adept at injecting poison through corks.

Abby looked from the wine bottle to Ziva several times.

"It has not been tampered with," Ziva assured her. She reached out her hand and pulled Abby closer. "Come here," she whispered.

Abby sat on Ziva's lap and put the wine on the desk. "You are definitely the Spy Queen," Abby whispered.

"Right now, the Spy Queen needs her petit Chaton." Ziva rested her forehead on Abby's chest.

"You really don't want to call your father, do you?" Abby kissed the top of Ziva's head.

Ziva shook her head. "I would rather be locked in an elevator with Ambassador Grabbyhands."

"Poor Ziva." Abby ruffled her lover's hair and kissed the top of her head again. "Want me to call him for you?" she offered playfully.

"That, I would pay to see," Ziva said, her mood improving slightly.

"It made you smile," Abby said as she climbed off Ziva's lap.

"You always do." Ziva gave Abby a swat on the butt. "How long before dinner is prepared?"

"Trying to put off the call?" Abby asked as she went back to the kitchen.

"Trying to plan the call so I can use dinner as an excuse to hang up," she admitted.

"Ten minutes," Abby said as she poured two bowls of soup and covered them with cheese. "Does that work for you?" she asked as she slid the bowls under the broiler.

"Perfect," Ziva said. She didn't reach for phone, instead she watched as Abby opened the wine bottle and poured a generous serving. The tee shirt Abby appropriated clung to her in an almost criminal fashion. All of Abby's mesmerizing curves were perfectly accented.

"You're staring," Abby said without looking.

Ziva cleared her throat. "I was just remembering earlier." Her eyes drifted toward the bedroom.

"I'll refresh those memories as soon as we go back to bed," Abby promised. She brought the glass to Ziva.

"I look forward to that." Ziva sipped the wine, watching Abby over the top of the glass.

Abby spun and returned to kitchen with a swing of her hips that bordered on pornographic.

Ziva let out a breath and tried to clear her now smut-filled mind. She took a long drink of wine and then dialed the phone. She spoke with her father briefly. Luckily for Ziva, he was busy with other things and quickly suggested a contact in Washington DC that she could question. The woman was named Anna Sadeh and she worked at the Embassy of Israel as a social attaché to the consulate. Ziva's father made an out of character offer to contact Sadeh and have the woman call Ziva's cell phone. Ziva didn't dwell on the fact that her father had the woman's home phone number. Knowing her father, the connection with the young woman was probably romantic.

When the woman called, she spoke English, so Ziva followed suit.

"Good evening, Miss Sadeh," Ziva began.

"Call me, Anna," she said. "Your father said it was urgent. How can I help?" Her voice was sultry even though her tone and words were professional.

"I am currently attached to NCIS." Ziva looked over and smiled at Abby. The mention of NCIS always made her think of Abby.

"What do you need?" Anna sounded genuinely curious.

"I am investigating a case in Alexandria," Ziva explained. "Several Marine uniforms were stolen as well as the uniforms of an Israeli Lieutenant."

Anna drew in a breath, understanding immediately how serious the thefts could be.

Ziva continued. "Do you know of any upcoming events that would involve Marines and IDF officers interacting?"

"I'm sure you have your NCIS checking for any political meetings and parties," Anna said after a moment.

"Yes," Ziva said. "I thought you might have some other suggestions." She knew Anna would handle the social calendar for the embassy.

"I might," Anna said.

Ziva could hear papers shuffling as she waited.

"Was the theft recent?" Anna asked.

"Last night," Ziva replied. She knew what Anna was thinking. Whatever group had stolen the uniforms would want to strike fast, before anyone could sort out the plan.

"Well, I have an idea then," Anna said. "There is a celebration in East Potomac Park at 1:00 p.m. tomorrow."

Ziva straightened in her chair. "Why did this not come up in my search?" Ziva asked a bit grouchily.

Anna laughed. "Because I am certain your search was for dignitaries," she said. "This is a gathering for families of the Marines stationed in Israel to help set up the early warning radar system near the Gaza strip. It is a picnic and carnival for about one hundred Marine families. It's being co-hosted by Tzahal." She used the Hebrew acronym for the Israel Defense Forces. "Many of our officers will attend in uniform and there should be dozens of Marines in attendance."

Ziva took a deep breath and held it. The event would be a perfect terrorist target for a group like Hamas. Attacking the families of Americans helping Israel set up defenses would send a brutal message and demoralize the troops overseas. "What about security?" Ziva asked.

"Of course, Tzahal and the Homeland Security are handling that," Anna said. "But with this theft, perhaps your NCIS should assist."

"We will," Ziva promised. "Do you have clearance to email the information to NCIS?"

"I can send the itinerary and contact information immediately," Anna said.

Across the room, Abby could tell by the change in Ziva's demeanor there was a break in the case. It didn't look like good news. She removed the soup from the broiler as Ziva finished the call. She heard Ziva immediately make another call, to Gibbs. Abby had to smile when the first thing Ziva told him was, 'Abby is fine. This is about the uniforms.' She set the table as she heard Ziva repeat the important information.

"Very well," Ziva said into the phone. "I will pull the documents off the server from here." She glanced to Abby and smiled. "My system is secure. Abby checked it for me yesterday."

"I want you to stick with Abby," Gibbs said firmly. "I'll put DiNozzo and McGee on this tonight. By morning we should have the IDF and Homeland Security up to speed. You can join us in the morning. For now, don't let Abby out of your sight."

"I will not." Ziva's smiled like the Cheshire cat and licked her lips as she watched Abby bringing their meal to the table. She had no intention of taking her eyes off Abby any time soon.

"Abby get her Caf-Pow?" Gibbs asked almost as an afterthought. Ziva had told him of the special delivery.

"Yes. She was most pleased," Ziva said. Her smile was so wide it was almost painful.

"I'll bet," Gibbs said. "Good work on the uniform case. You'll have to tell me where you get your intel sometime."

"Then I would have to kill you," Ziva said sadly.

"Take care of Abby." He hung up without saying goodbye.

Ziva hung up and went to the table and sat. "Gibbs told me not to let you out of my sight," Ziva said and then let her eyes roam Abby's body.

Abby smiled and glanced down at the table, feeling Ziva's gaze like a sensual caress.

Ziva cleared her throat. "He also told me to take care of you," she said casually.

Abby slid a bowl of soup in front of Ziva. "Well, after dinner, you can do just that."

"He is the boss," Ziva agreed. She tasted the soup and her eyes widened. "This is excellent."

"Don't sound so surprised, Miss David, or you'll be taking care of yourself tonight," Abby teased.

"Not surprised," Ziva said quickly. "Impressed."

"That still implies a certain lowered expectation." Abby was smiling, making it clear she was not serious. She filled a plate with the Blackened Chicken salad and slid it toward Ziva.

"I am afraid to taste this," Ziva said. Her lips formed a perfect pout. "I had big plans for tonight. Plans involving you and me and the shower," Ziva said. "I mean, if I like the salad, you will get mad. If I do not like it, you might not even put in."

"Put out," Abby corrected playfully. "And I'm pretty sure that won't be an issue."

Ziva tasted the chicken and smiled. "Excellent," she said. "As I knew it would be," she added hastily.

"Now that's how you make a compliment," Abby said. "I'm definitely gonna put out." She waggled her eyebrows.

Ziva had another spoonful of soup. "I cannot decide whether to savor this wonderful meal or to hurry through it so we can savor dessert," she said with a rakish grin.

"Savor dinner," Abby said reasonably. "And then savor dessert."

"Agreed." Ziva lifted her wine glass.

"L'Chayim," Abby said as she lifted her glass of Caf-Pow.

Ziva's eyes widened and she smiled brightly, thrilled to hear Abby offer a toast in Hebrew. "To life," she said, using the English translation of Abby's toast.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Timothy McGee was a good agent. Sure, he wasn't suave like DiNozzo, or scary like Gibbs, or really scary like Ziva, but he was a good agent. When he moved around his apartment, his mind was on his two major cases. He had a print out of Potomac Park and a list of the various businesses donating food or services. He'd been over both enough times to know the basic setup of the celebration at the waterfront park. He'd also spent a great deal of the night before logged on through the NCIS system to look for clues to find Mikel Mawher.

McGee loved Abby. He was not in love with her, but she held a special place in heart. He also loved Ziva, in an almost sibling capacity. It was his love for the two women that made him hope his suspicions about the two were true. He suspected his two friends were finding love together.

He was thinking about the two women when he left his building, and wondering how far they had progressed as he went to his car. Ziva was a good friend, and had taught him many things. One of those things was to spread his senses and feel for anyone around him. He always felt like Luke Skywalker trying to use the force, but after some practice, he had learned to notice things he used to simply ignore. He paused with his key in the car door and had no doubt someone was watching him.

He looked at his car window, using it as a mirror like Ziva had taught him, and he saw movement and a flash of metal behind him from across the street. He dropped to the ground and heard a gunshot even as his knees met the rough pavement. The glass from his window showered down onto him and he pulled his weapon and rolled toward the attacker. All he managed to see was a young man sprinting around the corner. He recognized him instantly, Mikel Mawher. He sat up and pulled out his cell phone and called Gibbs. He decided to let Gibbs call Ziva. At least Gibbs would understand some of the curses Ziva was sure to unleash.

* * *

Ziva and Abby arrived at work early. Ziva had an early meeting and Abby decided to catch up on any backlog in her lab.

Abby was at her computer in her lab going over a batch of tissue samples the Navy sent the night before. The tissues needed to be tested for CO2 content. Three sailors had been found dead in a small area off of the main engine room of a Navy freighter. Abby prepared the samples and was now sitting in her chair spinning side-to-side trying to focus on her grim task. Every time she stopped actively focusing on work, her mind would drift to the previous night and making love with Ziva. The problem was, every time she actively focused on work to avoid thinking about Ziva's naked body moving beneath her, she promptly thought about Ziva's naked body moving beneath her.

She closed her eyes and sighed and then spun her chair in a circle. It was a delicious catch 22. Every path led back to Ziva's toned, athletic, flexible, naked body. Being a pragmatic woman, Abby decided to just go with it. She leaned back in her chair, keeping her eyes closed, and let a satisfied smile cover her features. A few more thoughts and she was tempted to moan when she remembered Ziva's mouth doing wonderful things. She whimpered quietly when she thought about the torturous ride to work.

The trip in the back of the morgue van had been almost impossible. She had the soft, flat, bedlike surface of the gurney and an hour with nothing to do but undress Ziva with her eyes. It didn't help that Ziva's smoldering gaze made it crystal clear Ziva's mind was in the same wonderful gutter. When the van passed through a tunnel on the way, Ziva had lunged forward and kissed Abby in the total darkness. Abby had time to run a hand along Ziva's side and steal a quick squeeze around Ziva's breast before the van left the tunnel and Ziva pulled back as if nothing had happened. Now, sitting in the lab, caught up in the memory, Abby let out a groan that could only be called obscene.

Abby was not pleased. Ziva was gone and Abby was suffering in the lab with only Wilbur to keep her company. She sat straight up and opened her eyes, realizing she was sprawled in her chair prancing through her memories of the previous nights sexual escapades… with a witness. She turned toward the door and saw Wilbur standing at attention trying his best to not look at her and yet still guard her.

"Uh, hi," Abby said lamely.

"Ma'am," he replied, really not wanting to look at her.

"Just, uh…" She stood and looked at her chair. "Doing some chair pilates," she lied. "And meditation."

"Yes, ma'am," Wilbur said politely. He'd seen the same meditative expression when he walked in on a bunkmate in a shared tent in Iraq. The bunkmate had been _meditating_ with a _Maxim_ magazine. On that occasion, Wilbur had excused himself and went to the mess hall for a late lunch. This time, he was trapped.

"Abby," Gibbs said as he hurried into the lab.

"Ack." Abby jumped away from her chair as if it was a crime scene. "Don't do that," she yelled.

"Stevens, I want you on high alert," Gibbs told Wilbur. Gibbs was the only one who used Wilbur's last name.

"Yes, sir," Wilbur said as he snapped to attention.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked.

"McGee saw Mawher," Gibbs said.

"Here?" Abby grabbed Gibbs and squeezed against his chest.

"No," he said, trying to calm her. "At his apartment, but McGee's fine."

"Why are you telling me he's fine?" Abby asked suspiciously. "Unless there's some reason why he wouldn't be fine…" Her eyes widened. "Did he hurt McGee?"

"He took a shot at him," Gibbs said gently. "But he missed. McGee is fine."

Abby's breathing became shallow and fast. She felt like the room was closing in around her.

"Abbs, calm down," Gibbs said quietly.

Abby's pupils dilated and she was breathing in short, rapid bursts. Her face went red and then stark white.

"You need to breathe, Abby." Gibbs took her by both arms and knelt so she was squatting on the floor with him. "Put your head down between your knees." He guided her as she bent, then he rubbed her back in slow circles. "Big breaths," he suggested.

Abby was trembling. "He's gonna find me. He won't give up." She dug in her pocket and opened her cell phone. Ziva only put the battery into the phone when Abby was on NCIS grounds, to avoid being tracked away from the building. "I need Ziva," Abby said. She felt light headed. She sent a text message with shaking fingers.

"She's with the Director," Gibbs said. "On a conference call with the Israeli embassy and Homeland Security. I doubt she's taking calls."

Abby shook her head and continued hyperventilating.

Gibbs looked at his watch. He had expected the meeting to have already finished, but it was going long. Abby had obviously come to depend on Ziva. He sighed and pulled Abby closer. "Abby, you need to slow your breathing or you're gonna pass out."

He had comforted her for less than a minute when there was a loud crash in the hallway. The door to the stairwell swung open with serious force and slammed against the wall. Footsteps, obviously at a sprint, announced someone's approach. Gibbs and Wilbur each pulled their weapons and pointed toward the sound. Ziva burst through the door with her gun drawn. "Abby!" she yelled when she saw her lover on the floor. "Are you hurt?"

Abby lifted her head and reached for Ziva.

Ziva fell to her knees and pulled Abby into a one-armed embrace. Her right hand held her gun at the ready, so when her cell phone fell out of her pocket, she ignore it as it skittered to a stop a few feet away. "Is she hurt?" Ziva asked Gibbs.

"She's fine." Gibbs holstered his weapon and nodded for Wilbur to do the same.

"She does not look fine," Ziva snapped.

"She is fine," Gibbs assured her. "And there is no threat." He nodded at her weapon, which was still held out in a defensive position.

Ziva nodded and holstered her gun and immediately took Abby into both arms. "Abby, what happened?"

Abby was now silently crying and clinging to Ziva.

"Mahwer surfaced," Gibbs explained.

Ziva's eyes narrowed.

"He took a shot at McGee, but he missed." Gibbs moved to the wall and leaned against it, wishing he had a cup of coffee. He studied the way Abby clung to Ziva and the way Ziva's embrace was firm, yet extremely gentle. He was doing some relationship math in his head and he didn't like the way it was adding up.

"Did McGee get him?" Ziva asked. She rubbed Abby's back offering comfort.

Abby sniffled and pulled closer to Ziva, but her breathing steadied and slowed.

"No," Gibbs said darkly. "But apparently, he used your ninja skills to dodge the bullet."

Ziva let out a relieved breath.

Gibbs' eyes were drawn back to Ziva's hands on Abby's waist. Her fingers kneaded the muscles at the small of Abby's back. She didn't hesitate or seem uncomfortable. She looked like she was used to touching Abby intimately, and it seemed like that touch was familiar and more than welcome.

He bent down and picked up Ziva's cell phone, smiling for a split second when he saw the message on the screen, _'911 LAB,'_ from Abby. As Abby's surrogate father, he had doubts about Ziva as a suitor, but her willingness to put Abby's safety first was not one of them. Ziva had probably sprinted out of a high-level security meeting without a second thought when she received the text. She came through the door looking ready to kill, ready to die.

Abby took a deep breath and relaxed against Ziva, her body almost going completely limp.

"I'll go take McGee's report," Gibbs said. For the moment, what Abby needed was Ziva. "Stevens, take up a defensive position in the hallway until Officer David gives you other orders."

"Thank you. I mean, yes, sir," Wilbur said with relief. He spun and practically sprinted out of the room.

"When Abby is feeling better, I need you upstairs," Gibbs said and then quietly left the room.

For a moment, Ziva said nothing, she simply held Abby. She shifted and sat on the floor and Abby crawled into her lap and draped her arms over Ziva's shoulders.

"I am here, mon Chaton," Ziva whispered. "You are safe. McGee is safe."

"Can I just stay right here and run my tests from your lap?" Abby asked.

"If it were any other day, wild whores could not stop me from letting you do just that," Ziva promised.

Abby laughed and pulled back. "Wild horses," she said as she continued laughing.

"I assure you, wild whores would be a more effective distraction," Ziva said reasonably. Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You knew it was horses." Abby smacked Ziva's arm.

"Yes." Ziva nodded. "But it made you smile."

"Yeah," Abby agreed and then sighed and stood up. She offered a hand to Ziva and pulled her lover to her feet. "I know you have to leave," Abby said. "And believe it or not, I will be okay." She ran her hands through her hair and adjusted both ponytails nervously. "Really."

"I am completely torn," Ziva admitted. "I know I must be at the site today. I have the most experience and the targets are Israeli soldiers and American families." She leaned forward and gave Abby a brief, chaste kiss. "Yet my heart tells me to stay by your side."

"I'm in a secure building with an armed Marine guard," Abby said. "Yeah, sure I had a panic attack when I heard about Timmy getting shot at, but come on, it's Timmy." She shrugged. "He's like a big nerdy teddy bear."

Ziva nodded. The description was accurate. "I will make you a deal," Ziva said. "You stay here with Lieutenant Wilbur, and I will take care of your nerdy teddy bear today, okay?"

Abby grabbed Ziva's jacket lapels and yanked her closer. "You will take care of yourself," she insisted and then frowned, "and McGee, and Gibbs, and Tony."

"Deal," Ziva said.

"But I want you home unharmed, got it?" Abby insisted.

"I am the Spy Queen," Ziva reminded Abby. "Nothing is going to go wrong."

* * *

Gibbs pulled into East Potomac Park and turned to the agents in the car. He was not happy. The scene was packed with families and if things went wrong, they would go disastrously wrong. Gibbs looked to McGee in the back seat next to Ziva. "McGee, after the briefing, you get to the main gate and check every ID with the military database," he ordered. "Homeland picked up some intel from an informant."

"Nice of them to share the information," DiNozzo whined.

Gibbs glared at him. "They're going to share that intel right now. Let's go."

They exited the vehicle and went toward a large tent at the far end of the peninsula for the briefing. They were all wearing their Navy issued Kevlar vests covered by their unmarked field jackets. It mostly concealed who they were, and if they wanted to be identified, they need only open their jackets to reveal the large white letters, NCIS.

As they crossed the brightly decorated area, they watched people file into the park on foot, most carrying picnic baskets and lawn chairs. Each was stopping at the main entrance and was searched. Two bomb-sniffing dogs worked the gate. Another set of dogs and handlers moved through the crowd.

"Boss, there's like two hundred civilians out there," DiNozzo said.

"Then I suggest you work with the NSWC and Homeland and make sure they're ready for whatever we find, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Play nice," he added as he led them toward the tent.

"NSWC? Why don't they just say, bomb squad?" DiNozzo always rambled when he was nervous. "I mean, so they report to the 'Naval Surface Warfare Center.' That takes forever to say. Of course, Naval Explosive Ordnance Disposal Technology Division takes even longer."

"Tony, they just go by EOD, the Explosive Ordnance Disposal." McGee liked to needle DiNozzo when he was nervous. "EOD, that's faster to say than bomb squad."

DiNozzo ignored him and continued, "What the hell is surface warfare anyway? We're on land. Of course it's surface warfare."

Gibbs cleared his throat as they reached the tent.

"I'm just saying…" DiNozzo had to squeeze in one more comment. "Just call 'em the bomb squad."

Gibbs shot DiNozzo a glare and went inside.

"Gibbs, is this your whole team?" a muscular African American man asked.

Gibbs nodded and glanced at his team then nodded toward the other man. "This is Mike Adams, he's with the Naval Explosive Ordnance Disposal Technology Division."

DiNozzo elbowed McGee and raised his eyebrows.

Adams gave a short nod to acknowledge them. "Homeland's intel suggests we've got two subjects planning to take out a soft target today. We have dogs on the ground and a half dozen EOD techs working the crowd." He saw Gibbs's eyes narrow. "I'm guessing your team will work the crowd as well?"

Gibbs looked to Ziva. "Officer David and I are going to work the crowd looking for our guys," he said quickly. "Now, if we're done with the formalities, we've got a terrorist cell to take down."

"Maintain radio silence unless you've got a viable target," Adams said. "Happy hunting." He turned and went to a small command table next to an EOD truck.

"Nice guy," McGee commented sincerely. "Not all possessive about the bad guys."

"He's a good man," Gibbs said. "Knows how to stay out of the way and let people do their job." He led his team out of the tent.

Ziva quietly scanned the crowd. Hundreds of people milled around the park, many of them children. "There could be more than two bombers," she said quietly as she stared at the carnival rides next to the trail that ran alongside the bay. She hated missions where children were at risk.

"I know," Gibbs said. "What are we lookin' for Ziva?" he asked. He leaned his arms on the top of a car parked in front of the tent.

"All of the uniforms were from heavy set men who are short," Ziva said.

Gibbs turned to DiNozzo and slapped the back of his head. "Why wasn't that in the report?"

"Ouch," DiNozzo complained. "It's not like they were the exact same size," he pointed out. "Yeah, none of them are gonna' pose for GI GQ, but I didn't think it mattered."

"What does it mean?" McGee asked.

Ziva continued scanning the crowd. "Short uniforms mean our suspects are short," she said flatly. She pulled a pair of small binoculars from her pocket and studied a man standing at the edge of the crowd, then quickly decided he was harmless. "The heavy build suggests…"

"Oh, wait!" DiNozzo interrupted. "Fat terrorists?" He stepped away from Gibbs to avoid another slap.

"Actually," Ziva said as she paused to check another possible target, then dismissed him. "It means the terrorists need a large uniform to hide something. Most likely, a bomb."

"I prefer the fat terrorist theory," DiNozzo said glumly.

"Let's move people," Gibbs said quietly. "Try to blend in Ziva," he said as Ziva headed toward the crowd.

She nodded and pulled out a pink baseball cap and tugged it down over her ears.

"That's much better," DiNozzo said snidely.

* * *

Almost an hour later, McGee felt like his eyes needed a bottle of Visine and his fingers need a vacation. He was at the main gate and typing in every person's information and checking the database. So far he'd caught six people with outstanding warrants and one embarrassed mom with an expired license.

DiNozzo was hanging out with several EOD technicians. They were in their Navy uniforms, but not wearing anything that would identify them as part of the elite Explosive Ordnance Disposal division. They scanned the crowd and waited to take action.

Tony didn't like their bomb truck; he loved it. He wanted one of his own. It was like a monster truck on steroids. It was parked inside the tent to keep as low a profile as possible. Next to the EOD truck was a huge, spherical container. It was on loan from Homeland Security. It was called a TCV or 'total containment vessel.' If they found any explosive devices and couldn't disarm them, they could put them into the TCV and it would safely contain the force of up to twelve kilograms of TNT, the equivalent of a dozen sticks of dynamite.

DiNozzo paused when he heard a crackle in his earpiece.

Gibbs was fifty feet from DiNozzo's position. He casually reached up and rubbed his cheek and spoke into the microphone at his wrist. "Ziva, I've got something."

At the opposite side of the crowd, Ziva was near a small restroom following a short man in an Israeli uniform. "Who?" she asked into her wrist. She knew precisely where Gibbs was, having tracked his progress as the two worked the crowd with the Homeland Security agents.

"Short Marine near the chow line," Gibbs said.

Ziva pretended to rub her neck and looked across the crowded park. "I see him," she said. "I think I have his partner," she whispered, her eyes locked on her own target. She ducked behind the building and took out her binoculars and observed Gibbs' suspect.

"Well?" Gibbs said.

"I see your man. His uniform has bulges." Ziva was trying to estimate the amount of Semtex, the explosive capacity, and type of device so she could relay the information to Gibbs and the other listening agents. "Wires," she said quickly. "Left hand, a firing device."

"Got it," Gibbs whispered.

"His finger is not, repeat not, on the device. It is a trigger device, not a dead man's switch," she relayed. She turned the binoculars back to her own suspect and saw that he had the same setup. "My subject has the same device."

"If you can take him out, do it," Gibbs whispered.

"Understood," Ziva said. "We need to coordinate this. If we take one of them down and the other sees it, things are going to go badly."

Gibbs bent down and pretended to tie his shoe. He spotted Ziva's suspect. He whispered into his microphone. "DiNozzo, my guy is closer to you. Have the EOD ready to disarm this thing when I take him down."

"Got it, Boss," DiNozzo replied.

Ziva calculated a plan. "My subject is moving toward the children's area. Once he is past this building his partner will lose line of sight."

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Here, Boss," McGee answered.

"Work your way to Ziva's position and watch her six." Gibbs followed his target and saw DiNozzo in the distance.

"I'm on it," McGee said.

"Ziva, on your mark," Gibbs told her.

"Copy. I will take my suspect down once he is out of sight, then I will examine his device." Ziva scanned the area, pausing when she saw a female Marine with a baby a few feet away. She checked the woman's insignia and saw her rank. Ziva calmly approached her, keeping the subject in view. "Captain, I am with NCIS," she whispered rapidly and opened her jacket revealing her NCIS vest. "We have a situation." She closed her jacket, taking time to zip it completely closed.

The captain nodded and cradled her infant closer.

"I need you to move out of this area with your child." Ziva's eyes were on her target.

The captain nodded. Her eyes darted to where Ziva was looking and she inhaled deeply as if sensing the danger.

"I also need your diaper bag," Ziva said quietly.

The woman looked stunned, but handed Ziva the bag and quickly made her way in the opposite direction with her family.

Ziva walked toward her target, scanning the area. "Timmy?" she called out, making enough noise so the bomber turned toward her. "Timmy?" She met the bomber's eyes and gave him a pleading look. "My son was just in the restroom. Timmy is three years old with short brown hair. Have you seen him?" She walked toward him, leaning side to side as if looking behind him.

The bomber hesitated. It was human nature to have some response to a direct inquiry. The hesitation was all it took.

"Timmy!" she said with relief and pointed at a small child in the distance. She had noticed the child earlier and now used it to her advantage. "Where have you been?" she rushed forward.

The bomber turned and the saw a little boy who was busy eating a handful of dirt at the edge of the bike trail.

Ziva dropped the diaper bag and in a split second her left hand went around the bomber's waist and her fingers covered the trigger device. At the same instant, Ziva's other hand plunged her dagger through the side of his neck. Before the man's eyes had even shown his surprise, Ziva twisted the dagger, severed his spine, and smoothly removed the blade as his body went limp. He was dead. He collapsed in Ziva's arms and she half-dragged, half-carried him to the railing in what looked like a friendly embrace. She propped his dead body against the railing and used her hand to cover the wound. She smiled at a man who gave her a questioning glance. "Too much to drink earlier," she said sweetly. "Subject one is down," she whispered into her wrist microphone.

Gibbs and DiNozzo where both working their way toward the other man while McGee was working his way through the crowd toward Ziva's position.

Ziva cautiously unzipped the man's jacket and quickly scanned the device with her eyes and took in every detail of the bomb. "Timed suicide belt," she said into her mic. "The hand device is an override to trigger the bomb." She noticed duct tape around the entire device holding nails in place. "The Semtex is covered with nails." She mentally calculated the explosive force of the materials. Thick blocks of Semtex surrounded his entire waist. "We will have a shrapnel radius of at least fifty meters."

"Hey," McGee whispered and knelt next to her. "Dang," he said as his eyes locked on the massive amount of Semtex strapped to the man's body.

Gibbs was ready to strike, but had another concern. "Ziva, there were eight uniforms taken and we've only got two guys."

"I know," Ziva said. "But intel says two, and we have worked this crowd. I have not seen anyone else." She peeked further under the jacket and studied the connections. "The device was activated when they buckled it," she told Gibbs. "I can see the timer, and this one only has two minutes and thirteen seconds before the automatic detonation." She exhaled in frustration and scanned the area. "We are out of time. Take your subject down. Forget about disarming it. Put him into the TCV. I will deal with my suspect." She turned to McGee. "As soon as Gibbs makes his move, evacuate the crowd."

"What are you gonna do?" McGee asked.

Ziva looked across the crowd to the tent where the EOD vehicles were concealed. She knew she'd never make it to the TCV in time.

She heard a grunt in her earpiece, then Gibbs' voice. "Target down. Move."

"Everyone, can I have your attention, please?" McGee held out his badge. "I need you to vacate the area immediately."

Ziva needed to contain the bomb. "McGee, give me your vest," she ordered. "Now!"

As McGee removed his jacket, and then his NCIS Kevlar vest, they could hear DiNozzo on the earpieces.

"Make a hole!" DiNozzo yelled. "This guy had a heart attack. Make a hole." His heavy breathing made it clear that he was running through the crowd.

"Move," Gibbs yelled.

Ziva assumed they were rushing the other bomber's body to the TCV. She stood up and heaved her dead subject up and onto her shoulder in a fireman's carry. She glad he was short and had a rather slight build beneath the bomb. She yanked McGee's vest out of his hand and then ducked around the railing and leapt off the edge of the jetty into the water. It was a fifteen-foot drop into the deep-water channel.

"Ziva!" McGee yelled. He ran to the rail. "Oh, my God," he said as he stared down at the water. Ziva and the bomber were already beneath the surface.

Gibbs and DiNozzo rushed into the tent. The EOD techs had the TCV open and waiting. "We don't have time to remove the device," Gibbs said.

"In you go, Hansel," Tony said to the bomber. "Or was the boy Gretel? Stupid German names anyway."

"Just get him in there, DiNozzo." Gibbs had snapped the man's neck when he took him down, and his limp body was difficult to maneuver. DiNozzo and Gibbs struggled to shove the body into the tight space.

"Okay, why didn't we bring the jumbo size TCV?" DiNozzo asked. The bomber's legs were sticking out of the spherical device at an odd angle.

Gibbs bent the dead man's legs and tucked them inside. An EOD technician closed the heavy door.

"You gonna stand there all day or run?" Gibbs asked DiNozzo.

DiNozzo turned toward the EOD members and saw that everyone was gone. "Aw man." He ran after Gibbs.

"Ziva!" McGee yelled over the rail. He felt dread, like ice filling his belly with each passing second.

"McGee, report," Gibbs yelled over the earpiece.

"Ziva went into the channel," McGee said numbly. "She's gone. She grabbed the guy and just jumped."

"Get the hell away from the water," Gibbs ordered. "And get the civilians out of there!"

As if on cue, an announcement alerted the crowd. "We have a dangerous situation," a man announced. "Please leave your things and proceed immediately to the front gate." Many of the people had noticed the commotion and were already moving back. The announcement caused everyone to hurry toward the main exit. Marines and Israeli Defense Forces in uniform gathered the stragglers and calmly moved them along.

McGee paused and looked at his watch. Time was running out. He shot a last glance at the water and hurried into the crowd. "Just move quickly. Don't panic." He helped a woman with three small children, picking up the smallest and carrying her. "Keep moving."

Ziva had hit the water and sank like a stone. She knew the combined weight of her vest and McGee's would drag her to the bottom of the channel with the bomber in tow. The channel was painfully cold. It was February, so the water was less than 40 degrees. It felt like thousands of needles jabbing into every inch of her skin. It made her want to both scream and suck in a gasp at the same time. She did neither, focusing on holding the trigger device in her hand to avoid letting it hit the bottom and accidentally fire. She had to clear her ears several times as she sank farther into the frigid, murky water. The Washington Channel was deep, dredged to allow boat traffic.

Finally, she felt the muddy bottom of the channel and went to work. She groped in the darkness, her hands already shaking against the cold. She was able to place McGee's vest on top of the bomber and then removed her own vest with some difficulty, working completely blind in the icy, black water. She added her vest on top of the McGee's and quickly pulled her handcuffs off of her belt. Years of training in the Mossad prepared her to work quickly and efficiently in total darkness despite the pain the numbing water caused. She found one of the bomber's wrists and cuffed it through buckles of the bulky vests, using her hands to feel the way. She pulled her knife and performed a rather gruesome task. Her chest ached in protest of the time under water, her fingers were numb, and her body shook uncontrollably from the cold.

She pushed off the muddy floor of the bay and swam toward the surface. She relied on her innate sense of direction because the visibility was so poor she couldn't see any light from the surface.

Her lungs begged for air and her legs felt like lead. She felt her thoughts become foggy and she kicked even harder. The icy water sapped her strength and her skin was so cold it began to feel like it was actually burning. Thoughts of Abby, getting back to her and holding her one more time filled Ziva's mind and forced her body to fight. She had promised to come back and didn't plan on breaking her word. Suddenly light broke through the muddy water above her. She kicked harder and finally her face broke the surface. She took in a gulp of air and swam as fast as she could for the shore.

Gibbs checked his watch and knew the bombs would go off within a few seconds. He looked around and saw that the majority of the crowd had passed the main gate more than fifty feet away. It helped that many of the spectators were military officers who had immediately jumped in to help disperse the crowd safely. He crouched behind a car. "McGee, get down," he ordered.

McGee was standing up as tall as possible, looking like a rather large prairie dog, as he stared at the spot where Ziva had taken her leap two minutes earlier.

"Probie!" DiNozzo yanked McGee down beside him. "You trying to get killed?"

A muffled explosion rumbled from inside the TCV. Everyone turned toward the sound and then another explosion erupted in the channel and a wall of water shot eighty feet into the air, then splashed back down.

"Wait," Gibbs ordered, his arm pinning DiNozzo in place against the car.

Water, mud, and rocks showered down onto the pavement around them. A fish bounced across the hood of the car and pieces of metal clinked against the vehicle sounding like gravel thrown against a tin shed. Showers of splats continued for a brief moment as bigger debris landed, and then, silence.

"Now, we move." Gibbs was up and jogging toward the water instantly. DiNozzo and McGee followed.

They were ten feet from the railing and stopped next to three of the EOD team and two Israeli military officers who had gotten there first. Gibbs pushed his way around them and saw what they were all looking at. A large piece of black Kevlar, torn into tattered shreds, with only the letters CIS remaining, was crumpled on the pavement. It looked like a pincushion covered in thick strawberry jelly.

"What is that?" McGee asked as he pointed to the jelly.

The EOD techs ignored him. Mike Adams knelt next to the fabric. "There must have been five pounds of nails strapped to that guy," he said as he leaned closer to look at the nails that penetrated every inch of the fabric. "If the bomb hadn't been under water…"

"Those nails would have showered everything for a hundred and fifty feet," Gibbs said quietly. He looked over his shoulder. The evacuating crowd was barely fifty feet away and would have certainly sustained injuries. Gibbs knelt next to the vest. He swallowed hard, and looked out over the channel where the surface was still churning. "The water absorbed most of the force and shrapnel." He pointed to a few twisted nails that had gotten through. The metal fragments were embedded in the side of the car they had crouched behind. A small crowd of agents from different agencies gathered in a solemn crowd around the scene, staring at the mangled vest.

"Your agent saved a lot of people," Mike Adams said quietly. He looked at the red jelly-like substance and sighed, and then looked across the pavement at various piles of debris. Chunks of mud, rocks, tin cans, and fish had been tossed from the bottom of the channel, but some of the items were obviously chunks of human flesh and bone.

No one would say what they were all thinking.

Gibbs felt someone moving through the group behind him but didn't really care who it was. He stared at the letters on the remains of the Kevlar vest. He thought of another woman wearing an NCIS vest that had not saved her. Kate, and now… He couldn't finish the thought.

"Well, that is disgusting," Ziva said. She leaned closer and scowled. She was breathing heavily and shivering.

Every head in the small group whipped around and stared at Ziva with stunned expressions.

"Well, it is," she said. She was completely soaked, her tan tee shirt more like a wet second skin. She had dozens of tiny streaks of blood on her arms and a few on her face. There was a trickle on blood on her upper lip and another running from her eyebrow down her left cheek. There was already a bruise forming under and above the left eye. Waves of shudders punctuated her shivering.

McGee grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her legs like a pendulum.

"Hey," Ziva protested, but the heat from his body felt wonderful against her chilled skin.

McGee put her down, pulled back, but then hugged her again. "Thank God you're okay."

DiNozzo shoved McGee aside. "Ziva, we thought you were goo." He pointed to the substance on the vest. "I could kiss you." He reached for her, fully intending to do just that.

"You could…" she said in a dangerous tone, holding her shaking left hand out to stop him. "And then you would be goo."

DiNozzo gulped. "McGee got a hug," he whined and gingerly gave her a quick hug.

Gibbs was smiling, a rare occurrence for him. "David, I don't think that is an approved method of bomb disposal," he said. "I should send you back to Israel while you're still in one piece." He tilted his head to one side. "Mostly in one piece."

"I know," she said as she looked down at the torn fragment of vest. "But there were children." She looked up and met Gibbs' eyes. "I have seen what those bombs do to children."

Gibbs leaned closer and kissed her wet cheek, her skin chilling his lips. "You did good," he whispered. He pulled back, suddenly all business. "We should get you checked out by a doctor."

"Yes, we should," Ziva agreed. Her whole body seemed to sag. She was shaking uncontrollably.

McGee and DiNozzo both spun toward her.

Even Gibbs' eyes widened. "If you're volunteering to see a doctor, we should probably rush you straight to the ER," he said.

She closed her eyes and let out a shivering breath. She was exhausted, her reserves gone.

"She's getting hypothermic," Gibbs said angrily. He yanked off his jacket and tossed it around her shoulders. "Don't just stand there," he told McGee and DiNozzo.

"Tov, toda," Ziva said. Her eyes remained closed and she was violently shivering. "Rak rega, bevakasha."

Gibbs gave her a blank look as McGee and DiNozzo wrapped their jackets around her.

One of the Israeli officers translated. "She thanks you. But she needs a moment."

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked, truly frightened. "You're scaring me."

"'Biglai ma at omeret et ze?" Ziva bent forward, curling around herself trying to get warm.

The Israeli man spoke again. "She asked, _what makes you say that_?"

"Get the damn EMTs," Gibbs told the EOD tech. "Now."

The technician ran toward the area where the emergency vehicles were gathered outside the main gate.

Gibbs knelt in front of her. "Ziva, you're not speaking English," he said slowly.

She seemed confused, then nodded. "Yediat safa ahat eina maspika," she said, more to herself than to Gibbs.

Gibbs looked to the Israeli soldier.

The soldier's concern was evident in his eyes. " _One language is never enough,"_ he translated. Even he realized Ziva wasn't making much sense.

Gibbs took her face in both hands and made direct eye contact with. "Ziva, in English."

She nodded, taking a moment to pull English from the library of languages bouncing through her mind. "I am alright, merely shaken," she said as she touched the fingers of her left hand her to forehead and closed her eyes, fighting a wave of nausea.

"You're bleeding." McGee pointed to the ground. There was a growing puddle of blood dripping to the pavement next to Ziva's right foot.

"It is not mine," Ziva said slowly, focusing on speaking English. She lifted her right hand and held out…a hand, a severed human hand, neatly whacked off where the wrist bones should meet the radius and ulna.

"Gaa!" DiNozzo jumped back.

Even the remaining EOD members took a step back. The Israeli officers merely stared, noting the skill required to remove the hand.

"We need to ID the bomber," Ziva said, still concentrating on which language to use. "We cannot print goo." She turned to the EOD tech. "Your guy is goo too, yes?" It would have been a reasonable question, except she was using the bomber's severed hand to point at the frightened man.

"That was _cut_ off," the EOD tech said. His eyes were locked on the precise slice that had removed the hand like a chicken leg lopped off for frying.

"Man." DiNozzo scooted a bit farther back. "I thought you just collected some random bits along the way, like a Mossad Easter egg hunt. I didn't know you helped yourself."

"Bag it, Tony," Gibbs said. "Ziva, you have an appointment with the ER."

She nodded and took a step toward the main gate. Her leg buckled and she staggered, but she managed to stay on her feet. She paused and shook her head, causing the jackets around her to slip down her back. Her ears were still ringing and every inch of her body hurt.

"Oh man," McGee said as he rushed to Ziva's side and stared at the back of her shoulders the jackets had been covering. "Boss, that's a lot of blood."

"Get me that God damn EMT," Gibbs ordered. He moved forward and took the hand from Ziva and shoved it at DiNozzo.

"Thanks. I think," DiNozzo said as he reluctantly took the hand and held it at arms length.

Gibbs was focused on injury assessment. "Easy," he told Ziva gently. His eyes were drawn to her back. Only the top of her tan shirt was visible above the jackets draped around her, but the fabric was no longer tan. Her shoulders were drenched in blood. "Sit," Gibbs ordered Ziva and eased her to the pavement. "Sorry," he said as he pulled away the jackets she was using to get warm. He needed to check the rest of her body. He hadn't even seen her back when she approached him earlier.

"Geeze," DiNozzo said. He pointed at Ziva's back with the severed hand.

The back of her shirt was covered in bright red blood down past the middle of her back, some of it still oozing through the various sized holes speckling the tan material. Other smaller red spots were spreading through the fabric above the waist of her black pants.

"Boss," McGee said, suddenly pale. He pointed to the head of a nail protruding about an inch through the tee shirt on Ziva's right shoulder. A slow flow of blood accounted for much of the growing stain.

Gibbs saw the nail, calculating that it must be embedded at least two inches, given that it was a sixteen-penny nail. He moved in front of Ziva and gently ran his fingers through her hair, searching for any head wounds.

"Ouch." Ziva closed her eyes and pulled out of his touch. "Can we just let Ducky examine me?"

Gibbs responded angrily. "If we don't get you to a hospital, you just might end up on Ducky's table for real."

"It is nothing," Ziva said. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. She used her left hand, still favoring the right side. "I hit a small tree. I think it was a tree." She looked into Gibbs' eyes and pointed at him with her left hand. "You should try to avoid the trees," she said in an odd tone.

"I'll take that under advisement," he said, and then looked around for the EMTs.

"It is good advice," Ziva said. She reached her left hand back and rubbed the base of her skull to relax a kink there. "Also, never wear an evening gown to a night club if you are expecting a bomb," she added, pointing to him again.

Gibbs gently grabbed her hand. Her fingers were now covered in blood. "Hold still." He leaned around her to run his fingers through her hair on the back of her head.

"Well, you should not," Ziva insisted. "I have been blown up in a nightclub while wearing an evening gown, and I do not recommend it."

"DiNozzo, go find those EMTs and drag them over here if you have to," Gibbs said as he leaned around Ziva to examine the source of blood. He was staring at a piece of metal the size of a mangled half dollar protruding from her scalp beneath her braid.

"Will the ER have the good drugs?" Ziva asked with a yawn. Now that the excitement was over, her adrenaline rush was gone and she could feel herself crashing.

"You in pain?" McGee asked. It might seem like an odd question, given that Ziva looked like a tank ran her over several times, but he had never seen Ziva show any outward sign of pain, ever. She always seemed to simply tune out pain. "Ziva?" he asked, concerned that she hadn't seem to hear him. "Are you in pain?"

"Oh, yes," Ziva said. She yawned waved a finger at him. "But you are safe, my nerdy teddy bear."

McGee's eyes widened.

Ziva just wanted to take a hot shower and have Abby curl up in bed with her. "Ben zonah," she muttered under her breath. _'Abby's going to kill me for getting hurt,_ ' she thought. She rubbed one aching shoulder and then moved her hand to her _Magen David_ and rubbed it like a worry stone.

Gibbs' Hebrew was limited, but he knew the basic swear words. "Son of a bitch," he translated for McGee before the Israeli officer could. His eyes were narrowed and a concerned scowl was etched on his features.


	3. Close Protection Officer 9-12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/

**CHAPTER NINE**

Abby turned toward Wilbur. "CO2 leak in the engine room," she told him. "Never a good thing." She spun her chair and sighed as she stared at the results. "Poor guys never knew what hit them."

"So, it wasn't murder?" he asked curiously. He moved next to her and stared at report on the screen. It meant nothing to him, but Abby obviously found it useful.

"Ah ha." She spun and faced him. "I didn't say that." She tapped his chest. "How did the CO2 get there?" She tapped his chest again. "Was it sabotage?" She poked him one more. "Did they have enemies we don't know about?"

"Did they?" Wilbur asked.

"No," Abby said with a smirk. "There was a faulty connector on the exhaust manifold. I was just verifying the tox screen for the cause of death." She stood and paced. "But you can never be too careful." She spun and pointed at him. "Murder is often afoot."

Wilbur nodded.

The door opened and Wilbur spun around, his muscles tense.

"Abigail," Ducky said quietly.

"Got your results right here, Ducky." Abby pointed to the computer screen. "CO2 poisoning."

"Abigail, I need you to sit." Ducky took her arms and eased her into a chair. "And I need you to remain calm."

"What's wrong?" Abby exclaimed. She tried to jump to her feet, but Ducky held her in place.

"Everyone is fine," Ducky said.

"If everyone was fine, you wouldn't make me sit down," Abby said. Her face went white. "Ziva?"

Ducky sighed. "There was an explosion, but she is…"

"Explosion?" Abby shoved Ducky away and stood. "Where is she?"

"She is fine," Ducky said firmly.

Abby stared into his eyes, trying to see if he was telling the truth.

"She's at the ER getting…"

"The ER?" Abby yelled. "The ER is _not_ fine!" She spun and grabbed Wilbur. "We're going to the ER. Get your little Marine car, Wilbur. Now." She dragged him into the hallway, and then stopped. "Which ER?"

"Abigail, by the time you get to the hospital, she will already be back here," Ducky said reasonably.

"You promise she's okay?" Abby tried to calm down, but she felt like she couldn't take a full breath. "You swear?"

"Yes," Ducky said sincerely.

DiNozzo and McGee came out of the elevator and headed toward Abby and Ducky.

"Hey, Ducky," DiNozzo said. "We brought you Ziva's hand." He held up the bloody evidence bag and swung it. The appendage inside sloshed side to side in an inch of blood.

Abby's eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped like a discarded rag doll.

Ducky glared at DiNozzo as he knelt next to Abby. "Mr. DiNozzo, were you injured in the explosion, or is this just your normal stupidity?"

"Both," McGee said.

Wilbur knelt next to Ducky and adjusted Abby's neck so it was no longer twisted uncomfortably. He gave DiNozzo a murderous glare.

"What?" DiNozzo asked innocently. "It's Ziva's hand. She chopped it off the guy."

* * *

Gibbs sipped his coffee as he drove. Ziva was sitting in the passenger seat staring out the window, her eyes glassy. She was wearing a yellow hospital gown and a pair of green scrub pants a nurse had given her. Her clothes had been cut off to allow access to the dozens of cuts, scrapes, punctures, and a few more serious injuries that required stitches.

"I should take you directly home," Gibbs said.

"I am fine," Ziva replied. She turned slowly toward him, the pain on her face making it clear her muscles disagreed. "I can work at my desk until the medication wears off. Then I will secure Abby for the night."

"You're not fine." He focused on the road. "Don't know how I feel about putting Abby in the care of an agent not at one-hundred percent."

Ziva inhaled, preparing to let loose a barrage of reasons why she should guard Abby.

"I know," Gibbs interrupted before she could begin. "Even at fifty-percent you could probably take out a team of Navy Seals." He looked toward Ziva, concern showing in his eyes. "I want you to take it easy."

"I will not let anything happen to her," Ziva swore.

"Never thought you would," he said. "You were blown up, Ziva," he reminded her.

"Yes, I remember the loud boom," she said mildly. "And I was not blown up. There was an explosion… near me."

"That would explain the chunk of metal they pulled out of your head… with a pair of pliers," he said, his voice full of sarcasm. "And the three and a half inch nail they pried from your shoulder."

"Abby is going to kill me," Ziva whispered. She touched her left temple, the bruising now combined with a large lump. She rested her face against the window and closed her eyes.

"You two seem to have gotten closer," he said a bit too casually.

Ziva lifted her head and her eyes opened as she turned toward him. "Is there a question you would like to ask?" Even drugged, her eyes conveyed a sense of danger when she glared.

"Just don't wanna see her hurt." Gibbs pulled into the Navy Yard and the guard waved him through.

"You think I am going to hurt her." Ziva laughed humorlessly and looked out the window as they moved into the parking structure. Abby was the first person Ziva had allowed past her protective walls. Ziva was defenseless. Abby could break Ziva's heart, and that hadn't even occurred to Gibbs. Ziva waited silently until the car pulled into a space and he turned off the engine. "I would die to protect her," Ziva said quietly.

"I don't doubt that." Gibbs turned toward her. "But as a fa-" he stopped himself before he said the word father. "As her friend, I want her to have someone willing to live for her. Someone who'll stop at nothing to make it home to her every night."

Ziva opened her door, pausing to look toward Gibbs. "You do the scary father routine very well." She climbed from the car, emotionally and physically exhausted. Her legs ached and she had to use the top of the door to lever herself to her feet. She groaned. Her left leg had a one-inch gash now closed with eleven stitches.

Gibbs moved around the car and gently wrapped an arm around her to take the weight off her leg. "Concerned, not scary." He nodded toward the elevator. "Let's get you well and Mawher caught."

"Or dead," Ziva whispered.

"Or dead," he agreed with a grin. He and Ziva were of one mind on that point. Abby's life would be much better when Mikel Mawher was no longer a threat, which meant dead.

* * *

Ducky was examining the hand from the bombing scene. Abby was there, waiting for the results from the fingerprints Ducky had already taken from the hand. Normally, she'd wait for the results in her own lab, but with Ziva hurt, Abby needed the comfort of her companions. Unfortunately, McGee and DiNozzo were telling Ducky about their eventful day, which was not the comfort Abby was seeking.

"So," DiNozzo said, his excitement evident by the way he rubbed his hands together with glee. "We've had a blockbuster day." He grabbed McGee and shook him by the arm. "First Probie uses his _Matrix_ skills to totally bend out of the way of that bullet like Neo. I'll bet there was air warping and…"

"I thought it was my ninja skills," McGee interrupted.

Abby waved to get DiNozzo's attention. "Last time you said it was a Jedi mind trick, Tony." She was trying to get into the excitement of the discussion, but it was difficult when she wouldn't believe Ziva was safe until she saw it with her own eyes.

"Whatever," DiNozzo said. "It was an escape of cinematic proportions." He waved a hand to silence them all. "Then Ziva, well, wow." He paced. "She totally like bails over the railing and into the channel, and swims off like a half-fish, Kevin Costner in the craptasticly bad _Waterworld_." He didn't mention that he hadn't actually seen Ziva's leap. "Then we're all ducking behind the car and wondering where she is and then… kaboom!"

Abby's stomach rolled.

DiNozzo was oblivious to the effects of his words. "And we're all, 'no!' and Gibbs is all, 'stay back!' and then fishes and mud and rocks and metal and juicy pieces of bomber guy start splattering all over the pavement like the alien at the end of _Men in Black,_ the first one, not the inferior sequel." DiNozzo made splattering sound effects to add to the story.

"Tony," McGee tried to interrupt.

"And we're all freakin' out." DiNozzo went to Ducky, who seemed most interested. "And we find this mangled NCIS vest, and it's covered in disgusting bomber guy goo, but we think it's Ziva-goo…"

Abby sat in the chair at Ducky's desk and put her head between her legs. Wilbur was at her side and rested a hand on her back.

"Tony," McGee used a warning tone.

"And we're all gathered around the supposed Ziva-goo, all sad, and then Ziva pulls an Indiana Jones- from _The Last Crusade_ , when the tank goes over the cliff and Sean Connery gets all weepy, and Ziva's all 'hey, guys, what are we looking at?"

"She didn't say that," McGee said.

"Whatever." DiNozzo waved a hand to shush him. "She came up when we all thought she was goo. Then she starts waving around bomber guy's hand, and Gibbs is being all stoic Gibbs, until he sees this chunk of metal the size of a sports car jammed in Ziva's head. Then gets all grizzly bear Gibbs, cuz the EMTs aren't there yet."

"Thank you, Mr. DiNozzo," Ducky said sharply.

DiNozzo finally turned and saw that Abby was hyperventilating. "Oh, geeze," he said as he rushed forward. "Ziva's fine."

"Fine?" Abby lifted her head and gave him her most lethal glare. "Blown up. She was blown up, Tony. She had metal… in…her…head." She stood and marched toward him. "And I still haven't forgiven you for making me think her hand was blown off." She hit him on the arm.

"Ouch," DiNozzo said as he backed away from Abby avoiding another hit. "Ouch!" he said as he felt the familiar sting to the back of his head. "Gibbs," he said without turning.

Gibbs moved past DiNozzo. He was walking in front of Ziva, but watching her in case she needed support. She was walking without assistance, but was unsteady on her feet.

"Why didn't you call me?" Abby smacked Gibbs on the arm, but she continued past him to Ziva and wrapped the injured woman in a crushing hug. "You're covered in bruises." Her voice cracked.

Ziva inhaled sharply and stiffened in Abby's arms.

"Sorry." Abby released her grip and pulled back. "You promised you wouldn't get hurt." She sniffled as tears welled up in her eyes. She reached out and started to feel the bruised lump over Ziva's left eye, but could bring herself to touch the injury. She yanked her hand back and covered her own mouth.

"I, ah…" Ziva struggled for the right thing to say. Her color hadn't returned, making her hair look even darker next to her pale skin. "I am sorry?" she said as if asking for the words Abby wanted to hear.

Abby hugged her again, this time careful to not cause Ziva pain. "Gibbs, I'm taking her home," she said without releasing Ziva. "And not in the van. I don't like the idea of Ziva getting blown up and then transporting her in a morgue van. That's a nightmare I don't need to see played out."

"Like it or not, that's how we're moving you," Gibbs said. He stared at the two women. Ziva's eyes were closed and she seemed to be drawing strength from the contact. "I'll be going with you to make sure you get settled in safely," he said.

Ziva pulled away from Abby, missing the contact immediately. "Thank you," she told Gibbs. He was the only person whose skill she trusted as much as her own.

"Hey, if Gibbs is going, maybe you should take a regular car and McGee and I can follow," DiNozzo suggested.

"I don't know, Tony," McGee said. "Mawher may be lurking around."

"Exactly," DiNozzo said. "Then you and I can catch him."

Ziva moved faster than anyone could have expected given her injuries. "You are not using Abby as bait." She was in DiNozzo's face, her chest almost touching his as she backed him across the room. "I do not want Mawher seeing her. Are you out of your mind?" She poked his chest. "He shot at McGee," she reminded him.

"Hey, it was just an idea," DiNozzo said defensively.

"A bad one," Gibbs said angrily.

Ziva stood her ground, glaring at DiNozzo. She was breathing heavily and her dark eyes were full of malice.

Abby gasped and rushed forward. "You're bleeding," she said as she knelt next to Ziva's legs. A red spot was rapidly spreading on the back of Ziva's thigh, clearly visible on the green fabric of the scrubs.

"Probably pulled those stitches out," Gibbs said. He grabbed DiNozzo by the back of the neck and shoved him toward the door. "Give 'em some privacy."

"Stitches?" Abby was not pleased.

"McGee, out," Gibbs said. He turned to Ziva. "Have Ducky check the stitches and then we'll get you two loaded in the van." He left with McGee and Wilbur hurrying out behind him.

"On the table?" Ducky suggested.

Ziva nodded and he helped her climb onto a freshly disinfected steel table. She stretched out on her stomach and the back of her hospital gown opened, revealing the extent of the damage to her back.

Abby froze, her eyes widening. Every inch of skin that came into view was mangled. Her back was covered with raw abrasions and cuts. Ziva's entire body was incredibly pale, like the blanched flesh of a corpse. It made the angry red marks and dark bruises stand out in stark contrast. Abby's eyes lingered on a bandage on the back of Ziva's head. There was blood seeping through in an inch long line. Abby knew there had been a piece of shrapnel there. A tiny bit deeper and Ducky would have been the last doctor to ever examine Ziva.

"I will need you to remove these." Ducky tugged at the scrub pants. He helped Ziva guide them down until her thigh was clearly visible. She wasn't wearing underwear, but neither she nor Ducky seemed to notice or care. "Ah," Ducky said. "One of the stitches at the side came loose." He pressed a piece of gauze to the wound to stop the bleeding and then took the opportunity to examine the rest of her injuries, which she allowed.

"Can you stitch it?" Ziva asked as she felt Abby drape a lab coat across her exposed backside.

"I could," Ducky said. He pulled the back of her gown aside and prodded a few of the larger scrapes and punctures. "I'd rather use Steri-strips. Your skin has suffered more than enough abuse for one day." He went to a cabinet, found what he needed, and went to work dressing the wound. "Reminds me of a hurricane victim I worked on. His back was covered in nicks and scrapes. The debris-filled wind had literally scoured off his skin. Though, he had a great deal less skin, and a great deal more debris in his wounds. These appear clean for the most part."

Abby was completely silent, her eyes unblinking. She had caressed every inch of Ziva's back with her hands and lips only a few hours earlier. Now, that skin was torn and battered.

"What caused this one?" Ducky asked as he touched a small gauze bandage on her shoulder.

"Sixteen penny nail," Ziva replied sleepily. Her eyes were closed and she yawned.

Ducky grimaced. "I do hope they did a complete series of x-rays. Yes?" He leaned closer and ran his hands over Ziva's skull, much the same way Gibbs had at the bomb scene.

"Umm hmm," Ziva mumbled. She kept her eyes closed, her body needing the rest.

"That's some lump." He explored the area around the small bandage. "You were incredibly fortunate. The shrapnel impacted precisely on the external occipital protuberance; that's the thickest area on the back of the skull. A half inch in any direction and you'd have spent the night with a neurosurgeon."

_'Or in the morgue,'_ Abby thought.

"Or here," Ducky said under his breath. He moved his attention lower. "Quite fortuitous that the nail missed your scapula." He poked around the edges of the gauze, his trained eye noting the swelling caused by the puncture. "A sixteen penny nail, three and one half inches long. It's a favorite addition to homemade antipersonnel devices. lethal in most cases. It can cause more damage than a bullet if it tumbles through a body."

Abby put her hand over her mouth. She did not want to puke in Ducky's autopsy bay. She knew she should leave, but she didn't want to let Ziva out of her sight.

Ziva was completely still, her breathing slowing considerably due to the drugs in her system.

"It's a miracle it didn't reach your lung." Ducky made a tsk tsk noise as he continued his exam. "I'd guess the nail didn't completely penetrate," he said. "It appears to have lodged precisely between two ribs. Incredibly lucky it didn't shatter the bone." Ducky titled his head to one side and noticed a bruised gash on her lower back. He diverted his hands to that injury with clinical curiosity. "Any closer to that bomb and this would have gone right through the kidney."

Abby's stomach lurched at the scene of Ziva stretched out on the autopsy table. She had already realized how close her lover had come to ending up on that table in a formal capacity, but Ducky's running commentary was driving the point home. All the blood drained from Abby's face, leaving her as pale as a marble statue.

"Fascinating," Ducky commented. "I so rarely see bombing victims that still have a pulse." He turned toward Abby. "Oh, dear. Abigail, you need to sit down."

Ziva turned her head to check her lover. "Sit," she ordered, frightened by how pale Abby had become.

Abby nodded numbly and simply let her legs crumple so she sank to the floor, not sure she could reach the chair.

Ducky abandoned Ziva and hurried to Abby. "I don't want you fainting again," he said gently. "Let me get you a glass of water."

Abby shook her head. She didn't think she could hold the water down.

"You fainted?" Ziva sat up and pulled her pants into place and gingerly climbed down from the table. "When?"

"After I found out you were blown up," Abby said grouchily. "After Tony held up a bag with a hand in it and said it was yours."

"I am going to kill him," Ziva said through gritted teeth.

"It was an honest mistake," Ducky said. It was to protect Tony, not what he actually believed. He thought Tony had been extremely insensitive. "Mr. DiNozzo merely meant it was your hand in the sense that you'd collected it." He turned to Ziva and smiled. "Rather ingenious, I might add. We would have never gotten fingerprints from the remains any other way. Amazing job on the removal, especially given that you were underwater and waiting for a bomb to explode."

Ziva hissed in pain as she knelt next to Abby. She guided her lover into her arms.

"Can we go home, now?" Abby asked with another sniffle.

"Of course, mon Chaton," Ziva whispered.

* * *

Abby and Ducky settled Ziva onto the gurney in the back of the morgue van. Ziva yawned and tried to find a comfortable position on her side.

"You scared me," Abby said. She sat on the floor next to the gurney and tucked her legs up Indian style.

"I am sorry," Ziva said sincerely.

Abby nodded. "I know you didn't mean to." She sighed. "You're the Spy Queen. It's what you do." She touched the dark bruise above Ziva's left eye. It was warm to the touch.

"I would not have taken the risk if it was not absolutely necessary," Ziva said, taking Abby's hand and tucking it under her cheek.

Abby nodded. She felt fragile. The constant stress of knowing that Mikel Mawher was out there somewhere, added to almost losing her new lover, was pushing Abby to her breaking point.

"The park was full of children," Ziva whispered. She had reached the end of her own reserves, and a tear slid down her cheek. "I have seen too many maimed and dead children, Abby."

That got Abby's attention. She leaned over, wiped the tear away, and kissed Ziva's forehead. "One child is too many," she whispered. She honestly had no idea how Ziva could live with the horrors she had seen.

"Yes, it is," Ziva agreed, closing her eyes. She took a moment to control her emotions, which felt as raw as her back. "You made me fight today." She opened her eyes and struggled to sit up comfortably. "In that channel. It was you. I did not think I could make it to the surface, but then I thought of you." She smiled shyly. "I fought for you."

"Good," Abby said. "And you're never gonna stop fighting. I order you to come home to me every time."

"Yes, ma'am," Ziva tried to salute but the action sent pain down her arm.

There was a knock on the door and Ziva's gun seemed to appear in her hand as if conjured by magic. Apparently, she had somehow managed to strap her holster on beneath her hospital garb.

Gibbs opened the door and stared at the gun. "You might want to clean that," he said as he climbed in and sat down on the bench along the wall. If he thought it was odd to find Abby settled in place on the floor, he showed no sign of it. "There's mud and grass in the barrel and I think there's part of a dead fish stuck in the trigger guard."

Ziva looked at her weapon and realized that, yes, there was part of a fish in the trigger guard. She ejected the clip and then the round in the chamber, and put them all onto the floor on the opposite side from Abby. She wouldn't risk using a weapon that could misfire. She looked down at her ankle, realizing that her backup gun was probably in the same condition. "May I borrow your backup until I get home?" She looked at Gibbs expectantly.

"Don't get fish in it," he said. He reached down and pulled his backup gun from an ankle holster and handed it to Ziva, grip first. "Or bomber goo." He leaned against the wall and pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes and rested.

Abby smiled at the exchange. She gave Ziva an adoring look, wishing she could kiss her.

"And for God's sakes," Gibbs said. "Wait 'til I'm gone before you make out."

"Gibbs," Abby squealed.

"Come on, Abbs, I've got eyes," he said without actually opening his eyes. "Just keep it away from the job."

It was as close to a blessing as they were going to get, and Abby took it as that. She sat up and hugged him. "She makes me happy," she whispered in his ear.

"Which is why I haven't deported her," Gibbs said, still resting against the wall of the van. He opened his eyes and his gaze met Ziva's. "Which I will do, if you hurt her."

Ziva smiled and tucked his gun into her waist holster and stretched out on the gurney.

"Better not be a dead fish in that holster, David." Gibbs closed his eyes as the van started and then began moving.

**CHAPTER TEN**

Gibbs sat at Ziva's dining room table cleaning her guns. Ziva was sleeping on the sofa and he didn't want to disturb her. She was like him, comforted by the smell of gun cleaning oil and the sound of a weapon being broken down and then reassembled.

He knew Ziva would probably tear the guns down again to verify that they were in order, but at least he'd removed the mud and fish parts, plus part of a frog, and what he could only assume was part of the bomber that had been lodged in the ammo magazine. That worried him. If the weapon had that much debris, Ziva must have been in the water or just climbing onto the shore, when the bomb went off. By all rights, she should have been killed. He looked toward Ziva, thinking how thankful he was that she was safe, and then he snapped the gun slide back into place.

Abby was in the kitchen cooking. That made Gibbs smile. He turned so he could watch as she moved around the small space putting together dinner. She looked happy in Ziva's home. He thought back to Shannon, his first wife, and felt the familiar pain of the loss that shaped his life.

"Cell phone battery!" Ziva sat up from a sound sleep, suddenly alert. She spun, her eyes finding Abby immediately.

"I took it out back at NCIS," Gibbs said. He got to his feet and brought Ziva's primary gun, the Sig Sauer P228, with him and sat in a leather chair across from the sofa.

"Good," Ziva said, still looking to the kitchen to convince herself Abby was safe.

"Cleaned this." He placed her gun on the coffee table wrapped in a cleaning cloth.

"Thank you." She immediately reached for the weapon, opened it, and checked it with practiced ease, wiping the exterior with the cloth before setting it back down.

He handed her a full ammo clip, which she took and loaded into the weapon. She chambered a round and put the gun next to her on the couch.

"You should be sleeping," Abby said. She came over and felt Ziva's forehead, making sure she wasn't getting a fever.

Ziva's eyes fluttered at the contact and she leaned toward Abby. She caught herself when she felt Gibbs' eyes on her, and she pulled away and cleared her throat. "Any news?"

"Yep. Best kind." Gibbs glanced toward the kitchen. "We're having steak for dinner."

"The fingerprints got a hit," Abby added. She sat next to Ziva, so close their legs were touching from knee to hip.

"Really?" Ziva turned to Abby and smiled proudly.

Gibbs leaned forward. "His name was Ghazi Nasser. He wasn't on a Homeland Security watch list."

"How did he get into the US?" Ziva asked. "Have you sent agents to his home?"

"Student visa," Gibbs said. "And yes, McGee and DiNozzo checked his home."

"And?" Ziva yawned and leaned back against the sofa, only to instantly regret it. She winced as soon as her back touched the fabric.

Abby jumped to her feet. "Let me get you a pillow for your back." She headed for the bedroom.

Ziva was on her feet and at Abby's side in three long steps. "Wait." She pulled her lover to a stop and looked down the hall.

"I cleared the entire place," Gibbs said, knowing what Ziva was thinking. Ziva's medication had fully kicked in on the ride home. He and Abby had practically carried a very groggy Ziva into the apartment. Not an easy task given the number of deadbolts they had to open on the front door.

Ziva turned and nodded to him, but she went with Abby anyway. "I feel better if she is within my sight."

"I understand," Gibbs said. Anytime he was on protection detail he didn't let the protectee go anywhere alone.

Once in the bedroom, Abby took Ziva's face in her hands and kissed her deeply. "I've been wanting to do that all day," Abby whispered.

"Me too," Ziva admitted. She looked down at her hospital clothes and scowled. "I should change."

"I think showering would be a good idea too," Abby suggested. "But don't get the stitches wet."

"Are you saying I smell?" Ziva asked as she went to her dresser for a change of clothes.

"Bomber goo and fish parts," Abby said. "Do the math."

"I see," Ziva said. "Wait here, please." She went into the master bathroom and put her clothes on the sink counter and then came back. She tugged Abby with her and then delivered Abby to Gibbs.

"Apparently, I need a shower," Ziva informed him. She glanced at Abby, unable to stop the smile that blossomed. Being around her lover made it difficult to not smile. "I leave Miss Sciuto in your care." She turned and went down the hall.

Gibbs kept his eyes briefly on Ziva as she walked away, and then turned to study Abby as she watched Ziva. They both seemed genuinely happy despite the stressful situation.

Abby caught him staring at her. "Don't you dare deport her," she said. She went to the kitchen. "Or no steak for you, Jethro."

Gibbs came into the kitchen while Abby worked. When she reached for a knife and started to cut some red potatoes he cleared his throat. "Need me to sharpen the knife for you?" he asked.

Abby knew he was probably bored. When Gibbs was bored, he needed to fix things. Since he didn't have a boat to work on, his second choice was anything weapon related.

"Gibbs, think about that question." She handed him the knife with extreme care. "This knife belongs to Ziva the Spy Queen, and knives are like her special spy thing."

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "Wow," he said as he studied the razor sharp edge. "Ducky could use this for a scalpel."

"They're all like that," Abby said with snicker. "The first day we hung out here, Ziva showed me which knives to grab if Mikel broke in and I needed a weapon." She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd have a chance to do anything before she took care of him."

Gibbs was still turning the chef's knife over in his hand. It was perfectly balanced. He would bet a week's salary Ziva could hit a target with the chef's knife at twenty paces. "I'm guessing this one was on the list?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Abby said. She took the knife and went back to the potatoes. "Oh. She gave me one of her knifes. It's a cute little folding pocket knife."

Gibbs raised both eyebrows. "Cute?"

Abby nodded and stepped away from the cutting board and dug the cute knife out of her boot. "Ziva says to keep it close, but it makes my boot too tight." She handed it to him.

"Cute?" Gibbs asked again dubiously. He turned over the black folding knife. It was about four and a half inches long. He flipped it open and whistled. "That's a close quarters combat knife. It was designed by Colonel Rex Applegate."

"Is he like the Louis Vuitton of knives?" Abby asked.

"Retired US Army expert in just about every type of combat you can think of," Gibbs said. He felt the weight of the knife. "This is a three quarter sized combat folder. A lot of Seals carry this knife." He folded the blade into the handle. "You know how to use it?"

"Ziva gave me a few lessons," she said with a huge grin.

"I'll bet she did." He didn't want to let his mind wander to other possible lessons the two women had shared, so he handed it back to her.

"She told me not to use it unless it was life or death." Abby opened the knife and held it in a combat hold that concealed the weapon from view. "No poking. Just stealthy slashing."

He nodded. Abby's technique was excellent. Her closed fingers concealed the handle, and the blade ran toward her elbow, with her arm positioned to hide it.

Abby swung her fist at an imaginary attacker.

"Easy there," Gibbs said, but couldn't hide his proud smile. "I'm too old for knife fights."

Abby stopped her mock battle and realized Gibbs needed something to do. "Ziva has a box of knives in that closet waiting to be fiddled with." She pointed with the combat knife. "I don't think she'd mind if you played with them."

"Played with them?" Gibbs asked.

"Make 'em all sharp and pointy and clean," she clarified.

He paused only briefly, weighing his boredom versus the possibility that a trained assassin might not like someone touching her personal knives. "I did loan her my gun," he reminded Abby, then went and retrieved the box.

"You look like a kid in a candy store," Abby commented. "A very lethal candy store."

He stared down at the knives, three of them, carefully placed on a cleaning cloth inside a metal box. Each one was probably more deadly in Ziva's hand than a gun was when used by almost anyone else. As intrigued as he was, he wasn't about to touch them. He moved the box to the coffee table and sat, staring at the box with longing.

Abby looked down the hall. Ziva was taking far too long. Ziva generally showered and dressed in less than five minutes. The only exception had been when Abby had showered with Ziva. That shower had emptied the hot water heater. She sighed and turned to Gibbs. "I need to check on Ziva."

He nodded. He was getting worried as well.

Abby found Ziva in the shower. She could see her through the opaque glass, her head bent forward with the steaming water pounding down on her torn back.

"You shouldn't get those stitches wet," Abby said in a panic. She opened the shower door and gasped. The cuts on Ziva's back were all weeping red streaks of blood that ran down past her waist. "Out," Abby ordered as she reached down and turned off the water.

"I need to make sure the wounds are clean," Ziva pointed out. "Besides, these are not the first stitches I have had." She straightened up and stood naked with both hands on her slender hips. She was not prepared to see Abby burst into tears. "Abby?" She stepped out of the shower, dripping water and blood onto the floor.

Abby shook her head and turned her back to Ziva. She covered her face with both hands and her body shook as she sobbed while trying not to let any sound escape.

"Abby?" Ziva asked again, her voice hesitant. She was starting to get scared and concerned.

Abby heard the fear in Ziva's tone and immediately spun to face her lover. "I hate seeing you hurt," she explained. "I'm trying to be all tough since you're like the ultimate spy, but I can't stand it." She pointed to the drops of diluted blood on the white tile. "That's your blood. It's evidence that you almost died."

"No." Ziva took Abby's hand. "It is evidence that I lived and that whatever wounds I have will heal." She nodded toward a towel. "Perhaps, you could hand me a towel and I will get dressed. You can leave so you do not have to see."

"I want to help," Abby said. "I need to," she corrected.

"Alright," Ziva said, taking Abby at her word. She let Abby dry her back and then bandage the worst of the cuts. Getting dressed was more difficult than she had anticipated, and she was glad to have the assistance. By the time they made their way to the kitchen, Ziva was feeling much better.

"Everything okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," Ziva said quickly. "Abby tended to my wounds." She saw the knives on the table and immediately deduced that Abby had offered them to Gibbs to relieve his boredom. She also knew why he hadn't touched them. "Please, feel free." She pointed to the knives.

He smiled and picked up one that had held his attention. It was a short, well balanced throwing knife. "As I started to tell you earlier, DiNozzo and McGee worked the bomber's home for evidence," Gibbs said.

Ziva sat and picked up one of the other knives. She spun it with her fingers, then switched hands and repeated the motion. Each movement was graceful and smooth and could have passed for a choreographed dance between flesh and steel, but a trained eye could make out familiar blade positions used for various forms of attack or defense. The skill spoke of countless hours of practice. Her relaxed posture suggested the familiar movement was something she used to calm her nerves, like a more lethal version of rubbing a rosary.

"Did they find anything?" Ziva asked after a few moments.

"Yep," Gibbs said. "Nasser and his buddies have been raising capital by selling stolen electronics, high end stuff. Two bedrooms of the apartment were stacked to the ceiling with unopened boxes. Looks like they've been taking them from shipping containers."

"We should follow up on that," Ziva said. She tilted her head to one side, considering the implications of terrorists with connections at the port. "And the uniforms?"

"They recovered all but one of our missing Marine uniforms, but there's no sign of the Israeli Lieutenant's last uniform," Gibbs said. "They may have thrown them away."

"Or not," Ziva said.

"Or not," Gibbs agreed. He and Ziva both knew the missing uniforms could represent a very real danger.

Ziva sat silently, going over the case in her head. "Perhaps, the unused uniforms were the wrong size." She held her hand out as if gauging someone's height. "The lengths of the trousers were different for each man."

"You think they took the extra uniforms so they'd get a pair that fit perfectly?" Gibbs asked. It would explain why so many Marine uniforms were stolen. "Then why only one set from Stavi?"

Ziva's eyes darkened. "They knew Stavi's size." She considered that for a brief moment. "If they had someone at the embassy, they could have seen Stavi's personnel file."

Gibbs nodded, not liking the implications of that.

* * *

McGee had started one day with gunfire and was going to do everything possible to avoid repeating that particular thrill. He was on his cell phone, trying to explain that fact to DiNozzo. "I am not acting as bait, Tony. Forget it," McGee said after spitting his toothpaste into his sink.

"Are you brushing your teeth, Probie?" DiNozzo asked.

"That's generally what I do before leaving for work." McGee scrubbed his brush over his tongue and then spit again.

"Well, stop it. That's gross," DiNozzo whined. "I do not need to hear you spit."

"Get over it." McGee rinsed and then spit, holding the phone next to his mouth to enhance the sound. "Tell me again why I'm leaving for work before dawn?"

"Just get down here and get in your car," DiNozzo said. "We have to catch Mawher."

"Down here?" McGee went to the window and looked down to the street and saw DiNozzo's car at the end of the block. "I'm not gonna be your bait. No way. Gibbs frowns on us being bait."

DiNozzo imitated McGee, sounding like a second grader mocking a sibling. "Gibbs frowns on us being bait," he said in a falsetto tone. "Suck up."

"Is that your Muppet impersonation?" McGee asked. "Needs work. I'm still not playing bait. Why can't you be the bait?"

"Because I was not dumb enough to let Mawher track me home," DiNozzo said. "I am a stealthy agent. I could be the next James Bond. No one gets the jump on me unless I want them to."

"Uh huh," McGee said as he straightened his tie. "Of course, it couldn't be that Mawher already knew where I live from the last time he stalked Abby?"

"Please." DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "You screwed up. Yeah, you did the Matrix bullet dodge, but you never should have let him get the drop on you."

Before McGee could respond, he heard a gunshot in stereo, picking up the sound outside and hearing it over the phone connection. He also heard DiNozzo scream like a little girl seeing a spider. "DiNozzo!" He ran downstairs and then outside to the street and saw Tony's car with the window shattered. Mawher was nowhere to be seen. "Tony?" he yelled.

"What took you so long?" DiNozzo said as he crawled out from between the seats of his car.

"What's the matter, don't like being bait?" McGee scanned the area for any danger.

"Shut up, Probie." DiNozzo brushed glass out of his hair.

"Shut up, Probie," McGee repeated in his most mocking falsetto Muppet voice.

* * *

The first thing Abby noticed was that there was a very naked Ziva sleeping on top of her. She didn't mind, not in the slightest. The cuts from the explosion made it painful for Ziva to sleep on her back. Ziva was currently nestled comfortably using Abby's left breast as a pillow. No, Abby didn't mind being Ziva's personal mattress, not one bit. What she minded, was that she had not been able to make love to Ziva the night before. Not with Gibbs sleeping on the sofa. No, he made that perfectly clear.

When Abby told Gibbs it was time to put Ziva in bed to get some rest, Gibbs had pinned Abby in his gaze and said, 'Good idea, Abby. She needs her _rest_. She's had a rough day and shouldn't _exert_ herself in _any_ way.'

Abby let out a frustrated grumble as she refocused on the naked woman in her arms.

Ziva's grip around Abby's waist tightened and Ziva lifted her head. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Just frustrated," Abby whined. She gently explored Ziva's back, feeling for any areas that might be warm to the touch indicating infection. She bit her lip, concentrating as she looked up at Ziva's face. She reached out and ran the tip of her finger over the bruised cut above Ziva's eyebrow, then traced another on her lip. "You sure you're okay?"

"Sore," Ziva said. She leaned down and kissed Abby. "And frustrated."

"Yeah, daddy Gibbs needs to go home." Abby moved her hand lower and caressed Ziva's behind. "I definitely need my daily dose of Ziva."

"As you wish," Ziva whispered. She slowly kissed Abby, taking time to explore her mouth and tease her with playful nips and bites.

There was a tap on the door. "Ziva?" Gibbs whispered from the hallway.

Ziva lifted her head and her eyes widened like a puppy caught with his owner's favorite slipper in his mouth.

"There is no way he heard us," Abby whispered. "Not through that." She pointed to the metal door.

Ziva scooted to one side and rolled off the bed, smoothly pulling a gun from between the mattresses as she stood. She grabbed a dangerously short red silk robe off the back of the door and put it on. "Is everything secure?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah. I need to talk to you," Gibbs said quietly through the door. "DiNozzo just called."

"What's wrong?" Abby asked as she stood and quickly pulled a shirt over her head.

"I will find out," Ziva said. "Get into the closet and bolt the door."

"You have got to be kidding me," Abby said. Her indignant tone lost much its impact, given that she was naked from the waist down. "It's Gibbs."

"Abby," Ziva said sharply. "Please."

"Fine," Abby reluctantly agreed. She sighed and hopped on one foot as she pulled on a pair of Ziva's sweats. She went into the walk-in closet and flipped on the light, then dutifully closed and bolted the door. It was similar to the bolt on the bedroom door, and while it was an added measure of safety, Abby felt silly using it when Gibbs was the one at the damn door.

Seeing that Abby was secure, Ziva unbolted the bedroom door and opened it, her gun in her right hand.

"Someone took a shot at DiNozzo," Gibbs said, holding up his cell phone. "He's fine." He saw her gun and realized his mistake. "Sorry," he said with a sigh. "I am not under duress," he promised and came into the room.

"Well, this is Tony," Ziva said. "Are we sure it was Mawher?"

On the phone, DiNozzo was listening. "I heard that."

"DiNozzo is touched by your concern," Gibbs said. He was actively trying to not look at the short robe Ziva was barely wearing. "We know it was Mawher because he took a shot at DiNozzo outside McGee's apartment and Tony saw him."

"Hey, Boss, if this day continues like yesterday, that means you'll be getting blown up," DiNozzo said.

Gibbs spoke into his _Blackberry_. "Work the scene for any evidence and then you and McGee get to the office and go back over every lead we have. And figure out where the hell Mawher's hiding, damn it." He hung up. "Where's Abby?" he asked, noticing the bed was empty.

"In there," Ziva said. She moved to the closet door and knocked. "You can come out, Abby."

"And who are you?" Abby asked sweetly from inside the closet. She thought it was ridiculous to hide in the closet with Gibbs at the door, so she was going to make Ziva suffer a little as well.

Ziva blushed and whispered through the door.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," Abby called out in a singsong voice.

"Ziva the Spy Queen," Ziva said pointedly.

After a moment Abby emerged.

"The closet, Abbs?" Gibbs raised one eyebrow.

"It's a panic room," Abby explained. "Ziva is a little overprotective."

"Well, she is the Spy Queen," Gibbs pointed out. He turned to leave and paused, eyeing the door mechanism. "I'm surprised she doesn't have a drawbridge."

Ziva took Abby's hand. "Mawher shot at DiNozzo, but Tony is fine."

"And we're sure it was Mikel?" Abby asked.

Ziva nodded. "I need to get to the office and go back through the list of his known associates."

"Uh, no, you don't. You're not ready for full duty," Abby said.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "That's my call, Abby." He studied Ziva. She was standing in a slightly stiffened pose, but looked much better than she had the night before. "You're on leave for the next three days." Ducky had told him Ziva should rest for at least 72 hours.

"I am fit for duty," Ziva said angrily

"And I'm supposed to believe that? Gibbs asked.

"Would you like me to drop and give you twenty-five pushups?" Ziva asked. She put both hands on her hips, which made her short robe ride up another inch.

"Hmm." Gibbs seemed to consider the suggestion. He shook his head when he saw Abby glare at him. "No, you'd use your Mossad ninja skills to work through the pain."

Abby let out a breath she'd been holding.

"Fine," Ziva said with a determined look. She folded her arms over her chest. "I will take three days off…"

Gibbs cut her off. "And no, you will not take the time off and then conveniently decide to spend your sick-time sitting in Abby's lab."

Ziva rushed forward. "If you think that I am going to let her out of my sight…"

Gibbs held up a hand to silence her. "I made several calls last night." He turned to Abby. "You're off duty too." He moved his hand toward Abby to stop her from speaking. "You haven't taken a sick day or vacation day in two years. I've got your lab covered, so take the time off and say thank you."

"You can't let some stranger take over my lab." Abby was well and truly pissed. "My equipment is temperamental. Only I know how to baby it."

Gibbs pointed at Ziva. "Stay," he ordered. He took Abby by the arm, pulled her into the hallway, and continued toward the living room. "Abbs," he whispered. "There is a highly trained Mossad assassin in there. She is not going to let anything stop her from protecting you."

"Duh," Abby whispered harshly.

"She was damn near blown up, Abby," he said flatly. "She had chunks of shrapnel blown into her body," he said in an emotional whisper. "The concussive force blew half her Kevlar vest fifty feet," he added. "The bomb techs still haven't collected all of the debris."

"I know that," Abby whispered just as emotionally.

"The other half of that vest was filled with nails and bits of terrorist," he whispered. "It could just have easily been bits of her."

"I know," Abby said angrily. Her eyes shined with tears she was holding back.

"She won't stay home if you go to work," he explained gently.

"Wuh, well…" Abby took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm an idiot." She opened her eyes and her shoulders slumped.

"No, just stubborn," he said even more gently. "Yesterday was bad, Abby. But it could have been a lot worse." He wouldn't make the admission to any other member of his team. "She needs to rest."

"Okay," Abby said. "Fine, I'll take three days off." She bit her lip as she thought about the idea. "Sure, fine." She sighed as if making a huge sacrifice, but a salacious grin erupted. "I'll lock myself up for three days… with my incredibly hot girlfriend. I can do that."

Gibbs did not need to see his sweet little Abby with that wanton look on her face. "Ziva needs rest," he said pointedly. "Rest."

"Um hmm," Abby agreed. She intended to make sure Ziva never left the bed.

"I don't wanna know." Gibbs spun and headed toward the door. "Lock this thing behind me."

Abby bolted the front door securely and returned to the bedroom to find Ziva pacing like a nervous tiger. "We're taking three days off," Abby stated. Her clothes were off in record time and she moved in front of Ziva and grabbed the silk robe ties. "Back to bed." The robe hit the floor.

Ziva smiled and allowed Abby to lead her to the bed.

* * *

"Who is this guy, freakin' Houdini?" DiNozzo slammed his phone down. "We so should have set a team up outside your place last night," he told McGee. "But no, little Timmy is afraid to be bait."

"I didn't honestly think the guy would show up two days in a row," McGee said. "It doesn't make any sense."

"He's a crazy stalker, Probie." DiNozzo stood and paced. "He's crazy. That's his thing." He pointed to his temple and moved his finger in circle, the universal sign for crazy.

"Well, there is that." McGee looked back at his notes. "We could check his old housing complex and see if he tries to set up in an empty apartment."

"Tried that," DiNozzo said. He wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it at McGee's head.

McGee ducked out of the way. "No activity on any of his credit cards." He read through a list on his desk, ducking when another wad of paper flew past his head.

"So, how does a crazy stalker live without money?" DiNozzo sat on the corner of McGee's desk and sighed. He looked at McGee. "Mommy's credit cards?"

"Nothing," McGee said. He shoved DiNozzo off the desk.

DiNozzo began pacing again, then sighed and sat at his own desk. "This crazy guy is driving me crazy."

"Short trip," McGee muttered, then flinched when a wad of paper hit him between the eyes.

"Seriously," DiNozzo said. "We track terrorists. How does this crazy little rodent evade us?"

"At least we get to do something," McGee said. "Can you imagine how crazy this is making Ziva?" He smiled. "Ziva, taking time off. She's probably climbing the walls."

"Yeah," DiNozzo agreed. He giggled, not unlike a little girl. "I figure the pillow fight factor has worn off. Man, a bored Ziva and a bored Abby locked up while we work the case."

"They're gonna kill each other," McGee and DiNozzo said in unison.

* * *

"You… are… killing… me," Abby said in between gasps.

Ziva crawled out from under the blankets, her eyes wild. "I am not finished with you yet." She kissed Abby with utter abandon, letting her weight pin the taller woman to the bed.

Abby broke the kiss. "If your back wasn't sore, I'd flip you over and show you who's boss."

"I know who is the boss," Ziva said. She nipped Abby's bottom lip and then ducked her head so her mouth could cover Abby's breast.

"Killing me!" Abby laughed and thoroughly enjoyed every bit of Ziva's attention.

* * *

_'We'll just have to kill her,'_ Mikel Mawher thought as he sat in front of the computer screen. He was using a wireless hot spot so he could hack without leading investigators back to the apartment he shared with a friend named Kenneth Shaffer. They had met in an anger management support group years earlier. Both men had decided they didn't need anger management. They needed better stalking skills.

Mawher smiled when he accessed the records he wanted. "Got her," he whispered.

"Are you sure?" his roommate asked from across the small table.

"Kenny, by tomorrow afternoon, that bitch is dead," Mikel said happily.

"Wicked," Kenneth said and then took a sip of his soy latte.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Abby decided she could definitely get used to taking time off. She yawned, snuggled closer to her lover, and looked at the clock. It was almost seven a.m. and Abby knew that on a normal day, Ziva would already be back from a run in the park. Since Ziva had taken on the task of keeping Abby safe, the agent hadn't gone jogging once. Of course, being blown up was a good excuse to skip a morning run.

Abby yawned again, surprised that her tiny movements hadn't awakened Ziva. Apparently, Ziva was getting used to Abby's normal morning rhythms. She smiled and took a moment to study Ziva's face, peaceful and carefree in slumber. Ziva was resting with her head in the crook of Abby's arm. She looked much younger asleep, as if the horrors she'd witnessed couldn't touch her in her dreamscape. _'Maybe she sleeps so contently because she's in my arms.'_ Abby thought happily. Her chest shook as she tried not to laugh at her own expense. _'You've got it bad,'_ she thought to herself.

"What is so funny, mon Chaton?" Ziva asked without opening her eyes.

"Nothing," Abby said. She ran her fingers under Ziva's hair, caressing the soft skin at the nape of her neck.

"Mmm," Ziva lifted her head and studied Abby's expression. "Not nothing," she said playfully. She gave Abby a quick kiss. "Whatever brings you such a smile must be something." She gently touched Abby's cheek. "I hope you think of it often."

"Me too," Abby whispered huskily. She sighed, completely satisfied in Ziva's embrace.

Ziva settled in place with her face on Abby's chest, listening to the slow pounding of her lover's heart. She didn't need to know all of Abby's secrets. So long as Abby was happy, Ziva was content.

* * *

DiNozzo was sleeping with his head on his desk. His stapler was under his cheek, leaving a long, red indented mark. He snorted and shoved it away.

McGee was awake and leaning over DiNozzo with a tube of superglue in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other.

"Not the face," Gibbs said as he sat at his own desk and took a gulp of hot coffee.

McGee scowled and diverted his attack to the left, eyeing DiNozzo's hand resting across a phonebook. He opened the cap and prepared to drop the glue over DiNozzo's fingers. It was payback for the many times DiNozzo had glued McGee's various body parts to different pieces of office equipment.

"Don't even think it, Probie," DiNozzo said. He sat up and let out a disgusted puff of air. "Pathetic." He looked at the tube of glue. "You should have struck while I was asleep, before Gibbs came in with his coffee and woke me up." He shook his head and looked at McGee with pity. "Ziva needs to tutor you on striking when you have the chance. You have to take advantage of every opportunity, Probie."

The thought of Ziva taking advantage of opportunities was the last thing Gibbs wanted to think about. He scowled at his coffee.

"What's up, Boss?" McGee asked.

"That's my question," Gibbs said, deflecting the inquiry. "Why isn't Mikel Mawher sitting in a jail cell?"

"Well, we do have a lead," DiNozzo said.

"And?" Gibbs demanded.

"Uh…" McGee rushed to his own desk and grabbed his notes. "Mikel Mawher attended a men's support group a year before he went to jail."

"Where?" Gibbs asked, feeling like they might finally be getting a break in the case.

"Uh…about fifteen minutes from here. Northeast Library on 7th Street." McGee checked his notes. "It's a voluntary group run by a local Ph. D., Doctor Harriet Allison."

"Anger management," DiNozzo said. "Figured we'd search for the crazy with other crazies."

"Do you have anything that will actually help us catch this guy?" Gibbs asked impatiently. "I'm getting tired of Abby's stalker wandering the streets taking potshots at my team."

"Well, uh, we were waiting to go interview Dr. Allison when the library opens," McGee said. "Apparently she volunteers there twice a week."

"She doesn't have a house, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh, well, yes…" McGee stammered. "Off University Boulevard, near the University of Maryland. About twenty-five minutes away this time of day."

"We'll go interview her at home, Boss," DiNozzo said quickly.

"Yes, we will," Gibbs agreed. "Get the car, DiNozzo."

* * *

Gibbs knocked on the door of an older cottage and waited as DiNozzo and McGee fidgeted behind him. He could hear movement inside and when the door opened he was surprised to see a spry woman in her sixties.

"Dr. Harriet Allison?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," she said as she took in the sight of the three men at her doorstep. Her eyes darted quickly over DiNozzo and McGee, then locked on Gibbs. "What can I do for you, officer?"

Gibbs smiled. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. These are my associates, Agents DiNozzo and McGee. Do you mind if we come in and ask a few questions?"

"Be my guests." She seemed intrigued. She led them into the kitchen and motioned toward the table. "Agent Gibbs, I'd guess you take your coffee black." She began making a fresh pot of coffee. "Like any good Navy man."

"Marine," Gibbs said as he sat. "But you've got an eye for military."

"I should," she said as she turned. "I raised two sons and a daughter that ended up career Navy. Just like their father, rest his soul." She turned and frowned at McGee and DiNozzo. "I'm guessing you boys take cream and sugar?"

"Yes, ma'am," McGee said with a happy smile. He sat and took out his notebook.

She studied DiNozzo and McGee a brief moment. "I'd be surprised if you two ever served active duty."

"Actually, I've served on a carrier." DiNozzo sat.

Dr. Allison turned her full attention on DiNozzo, gave him skeptical look, and then smiled. "Agent Afloat?"

"Well, yeah," DiNozzo admitted.

Gibbs' lip curved up on one side and his eyes crinkled at the edges. He liked the elderly woman. "Dr. Allison, we need to ask you a few questions about a man who attended your anger management group." He was expecting her to resist revealing confidential information, but thought he might be able to get her to bend the rules for a military man.

"Anger management?" She turned and went to the last chair at the small table and sat. "I have many Naval officers in that group." She sighed. "War causes far too many injuries that the eye can't see. Who are you investigating?"

McGee's eyes widened. He had expected the doctor to bring up confidentially.

Dr. Allison tipped her head down to hide a smile at McGee's expense. She cleared her throat and looked directly at him. "There is a need for as much confidentially as possible with this group," she said to McGee, and then she met Gibbs' eyes. "But I make it clear that given the volatile nature of the subject, my first responsibility is to protect people from getting hurt. Every member of my group signs a full disclosure release."

"Wow," McGee said. He'd never heard of any therapy or support group with such a rule.

"We're not looking for a Naval officer," Gibbs said. "What can you tell us about Mikel Mawher?"

She frowned, and then exhaled slowly. "When you first meet him, he seems quite nice, gentle even."

Gibbs raised both eyebrows.

"Don't let the Goth clothing fool you," she told Gibbs. "You'd be surprised how many wonderful, gentle souls hide behind black hair dye and wild clothing."

"Actually, not that surprised," DiNozzo said.

"You said 'at first.' What about later?" Gibbs asked.

"He's a psychotic weasel," Dr. Allison said bluntly. She stood and went to the cabinet and pulled down three coffee mugs and put them next to her own on the counter. "I'm guessing you want information that would help locate him? You really should check the prison system. That would be my first guess."

"Doctor, you ever consider doing some freelance profiling?" Gibbs asked when she handed him a cup of black coffee.

She leaned closer and patted Gibbs' cheek. "You couldn't afford my rates, handsome." She straightened up. "Let me get my files. Help yourself to the cookies in that jar." She pointed to a cookie jar shaped like a goat. The goat was wearing a blue jersey emblazoned with a large yellow letter N and he was holding an anchor in his cloven hooves.

Gibbs stood and lifted the head off the goat jar and grabbed a cookie. "Bill the goat," he commented. "Good Navy mom."

DiNozzo looked confused.

McGee explained. "Bill the goat is the Navy mascot."

"Hence the N and the anchor," DiNozzo said with a shiver. "Animals wearing clothes freak me out. It's creepy."

She came back into the room carrying a thick file and wearing a pair of small oval glasses. She sat and flipped through the notes, then paused and looked directly at McGee. She laughed and then studied Gibbs and DiNozzo before looking back at McGee. "I didn't recognize you without my glasses. Your characterizations are spot on, Mr. Gemcity," she said, referencing the pen name McGee used when writing crime novels.

McGee blushed.

"Not written about us, my ass," DiNozzo mumbled. He had been accusing McGee of using the NCIS team members as book characters for months.

Dr. Allison got a playful glimmer in her eye that reminded Gibbs of Abby.

"You know, before my hair turned grey, it was a stunning auburn with red highlights." She looked and Gibbs and winked. The book character based on Gibbs also had a thing for redheads.

"I'm sure it was lovely," Gibbs said, hiding a smile by taking a sip of the strong coffee.

"Damn right, it was," she said. "When my husband would come home to port, he swore he could see it from the channel at the end of the bay." She focused on her files. "Here's the little weasel," she said excitedly.

"What kind of doctor are you?" DiNozzo asked. He liked her, he really did, but as a doctor she didn't show much loyalty to the weasel.

"Psychologist," she said. "I have a private practice with clients who pay a disgusting amount of money for me to exercise my busybody muscles. I volunteer my time with the anger management group as my own penance." She tapped her notes. "Mawher attended six meetings in total. Part of a plea bargain to avoid jail time." She flipped to another page. "Never seemed too interested in dealing with anger as much as finding a way to blame others for it."

"Did he have any friends in the group?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, yes, Kenneth Shaffer," she said. "Two peas in pod, those two." She flipped another page. "That would be my best bet if I were looking for him."

McGee wrote the name on his pad.

"What made him stand out?" Gibbs asked.

"The two of them left the group when I suggested that sharing tips on surveillance was not a proper use of group time," she said. "You can call Sergeant Williams with the Maryland Police Department for his rap sheet." She handed Gibbs a business card for a Maryland PD officer named Sergeant Susan Williams. "I testified for Shaffer's girlfriend, Cassidy Murray, to help her get a restraining order."

"Thank you," Gibbs said.

"Keep it," she said. "I have a photocopy in my files. You should probably interview her," she suggested. "Cassidy Murray works at the Georgetown University Hospital. She's an ER doctor. I'll get her contact information. She changed her name after Shaffer stalked her. The original records are for Cassidy Carter." She grabbed her _Blackberry_ and quickly found the entry. She reached over and scribbled the number on McGee's notepad.

"Thanks," McGee said. He was already trying to figure out how to incorporate the woman into his next novel.

"Be careful," she said as she met Gibbs' eyes meaningfully. "Shaffer is dangerous." She sighed and then cleared her throat. "Wouldn't be a tragedy if he resisted arrest."

"She's like an older version of lady you, Boss," DiNozzo said.

Doctor Allison turned to McGee. "I enjoyed your book immensely, but I honestly didn't buy the romantic undertones between Tommy and the Israeli officer, Lisa. She may flirt with him, but she is out of his league."

"Hey!" DiNozzo said.

"We're just discussing fiction," she said as she patted DiNozzo's arm before turning back to McGee. "Try pairing her with the feisty lab tech, Amy, if you want real fireworks."

Gibbs choked on his coffee, barely avoiding spitting onto the table.

"Fireworks when Ziva shoots him," DiNozzo said. He laughed and stood next to Gibbs and looked back to her. "Sorry, Doc. Swing and a miss."

She ignored DiNozzo, reaching over and patting McGee's hand. "I'd include a subplot with Lisa's insecurities about Amy getting hurt because of Lisa's mercenary past."

"And she was doing so well," DiNozzo said, shaking a finger at her. "No profiling freelance work for you."

Dr. Allison stood and smiled at DiNozzo. "Your boyish charms won't work on me."

Gibbs slapped the back of DiNozzo's head. "She raised three sailors, DiNozzo. You are in so far over your head even a nuclear sub can't save you." He carried his cup to the sink and rinsed it and then glared at the other two until they quickly did the same. "Thank you again for all your help ma'am."

"You're welcome." She ran her eyes quickly over Gibbs in silent appraisal. "My daughter is a JAG officer out of Hawaii," she said casually. "Red hair just like mine used to be."

"I'll keep that in mind if I go to the islands," Gibbs said politely.

"You do that. Her late husband was a strapping Army Ranger. She likes the tough guys," she said as she walked them to the door. "Looking forward to your next book, Mr. Gemcity." She chuckled and looked at DiNozzo. "Try to stay out of trouble."

When they got into the car DiNozzo was not happy. "What the hell, Boss? She fawns all over Probie, tries to seriously pimp her daughter out to you, and me? I get told 'Lisa' is out of my league and to stay out of trouble. Again, What… the… hell?"

"That woman is one hell of a profiler," Gibbs said as he started the car. "McGee, call the Maryland PD and talk to Sergeant Williams. Ask her about Shaffer. Let's see what the ex-girlfriend knows. We're going to Georgetown."

* * *

Ziva was on the bed, stretched out on her belly. She was gloriously naked, as was Abby, who was kneeling over Ziva giving her a massage. "Should we get up?" Ziva asked. She was beginning to feel guilty about lounging in bed so long.

"Ah, no," Abby said as if her lover was slightly dense. She kneaded Ziva's shoulders, carefully avoiding the many small injuries. She moved her hands further down, to the middle of Ziva's back. Her touch caused Ziva to flinch. "What is it?"

"That is tender," Ziva admitted.

Abby leaned to one side to allow the light from a lamp across the room to shine on the area. "Ouch," she said as she poked the area.

"Yes, ouch!" Ziva flinched again, not exactly thrilled that her lover was prodding the painful spot.

"There's bruising." Abby's voice was full of concern. Now that she was looking closely, the entire area seemed to be showing signs of bruises that were coming to the surface. "A lot of bruising, and it wasn't there last night." She rested her palm on the area and felt heat rising from her lover's skin. "You are going to the hospital," she ordered.

"Abby, I am fine." Ziva turned and looked over her shoulder. "An explosion sends out a concussive wave," she explained. "It takes a while for the deep bruising to show up."

"Deep bruising?" Abby leapt off of Ziva's back. "What if your insides are all smooshed? Ziva, we seriously need to go the hospital."

"My insides are not…smooshed." She carefully sat up, groaning as she did so.

"Smooshed," Abby accused. "I'm calling Gibbs."

Ziva lifted one corner of her mouth as she raked her eyes up and down Abby's body. "Calling Gibbs is the last thing you are going to do."

"No sex," Abby said with a stomp of her foot. "Not until I'm convinced you're not all smooshed." She pulled on a shirt and then yanked on one of her plaid skirts. "I'm calling Ducky," she said as she unbolted the bedroom door.

"Wait," Ziva said, her tone sharp with a hint of near panic.

Abby sighed, but froze in place until Ziva was at her side. "See, this is me, humoring you." She turned to her lover and kissed her. "I humor you by letting you check the place to make sure it's safe, when we know it is because you checked before I went to get a Caf-Pow, twice,but, I adore you, so I am humoring you." She smiled brightly and waggled her eyebrows.

"Fine, you may call Ducky," Ziva said. She kissed Abby's cheek and then went into the hall carrying her gun. After a moment she was back. "All clear."

"Good thing," Abby said. She slapped Ziva's naked butt and moved passed her. "You're a bit underdressed for hand to hand."

"Actually, you are the one who is overdressed," Ziva said.

Abby shook her head. "Not until Ducky swears you're okay." Abby walked down the hall exaggerating the swing of her hips.

Ziva tilted her head and bent down sideways, getting a good view up Abby's skirt. She wolf whistled

"Perv," Abby said as she looked over her shoulder with a huge smile on her face. She spun back around and added a bit more swing to her hips.

Abby quickly used Ziva's cell phone to call Ducky. He reassured her that Ziva's bruises were to be expected. She took the opportunity to ask about new cases and about the technician using her lab. As soon as she hung up the cell phone, it rang. She saw that it was Gibbs, so she answered it.

"Hey, Gibbs," Abby said as she walked into the small kitchen to mix a fresh Caf-Pow. "Oh God, tell me no one's been shot or blown up."

"We're all fine," Gibbs assured her. "I called to talk to Ziva.

"Hold on." She covered the phone. "Ziva, Gibbs is on the phone for you," she called down the hall. She spoke into the phone. "Ducky says you have some guy who's fresh out of college in my lab."

"First of all, he graduated with his Masters in Forensics," Gibbs said. "Secondly, why are you calling Ducky when you're not supposed to be working?"

"Yeah, well, I woke up this morning and found Ziva's back covered in bruises and I kinda' panicked." Abby paced in the kitchen.

Gibbs gentled his voice. "That's normal with a force like that bomb, Abbs."

"Yeah, well you coulda' told me last night and saved me a freakin' heart attack today," Abby said grouchily. She saw Ziva and her face lit up. "Hey, Gibbs has some secret intel." Her voice was full of love. She kissed Ziva's cheek as she handed her the phone, then went to her Caf-Pow preparation area. It was set up like a mini lab, complete with beakers.

"David," Ziva said. She was smiling as she rested her fingers on her cheek where Abby's kiss still lingered.

Gibbs was struck by the change he'd heard in Abby's voice. He knew without seeing her that a beautiful smile covered her face when she had spoken to Ziva. He hoped Ziva knew how deep Abby's feelings already were. "We got a lead on Mawher," he told Ziva.

"Great," Ziva said. "Give me the address. After I drop Abby off at NCIS, I will join you."

"Not what I had planned," Gibbs said quietly. "We've got a lead, a guy Mawher knows from an anger management group. The doctor who ran the group thinks they're both dangerous and that Mawher is most likely with this guy, Kenneth Shaffer."

Ziva gripped the phone. "Are they working together?" If Mawher had a partner, that increased Abby's danger exponentially.

"No proof of that," Gibbs said. "But my gut says yes." He knew the implications as well as Ziva did. "At the very least, there's a good chance Shaffer is in contact with Mawher."

"Good luck," Ziva said quietly. "Can you send me a picture of Shaffer?"

"That's why I called," Gibbs said. "McGee is getting a driver's license photo as we speak. He's gonna send it to your phone. I just wanted to make sure you got it ASAP so you have a name and a face to look out for."

"I appreciate that." Ziva glanced to the kitchen, and despite the ominous news, she smiled. Abby was holding up vials of Caf-Pow mix like a mad scientist. It was adorable.

"Stay safe," Gibbs said.

"You too," Ziva replied just as the line went dead. She went to the kitchen and kissed the back of Abby's neck. "Enjoying your Caf-Pow, Dr. Frankenstein?"

"More like Dr. Jekyll," Abby said. When Ziva gave her a confused look, she explained. "Frankenstein was the dead body guy. Like Ducky if he was a complete whack job who sewed bodies together. Dr. Jekyll mixed potions." She held up a vial of Caf-Pow syrup. "Only, I'm a good Dr. Jekyll. Wait, Dr. Jekyll was good. It was Hyde who was bad…" She frowned and then hugged Ziva. "Sorry, my analogy just derailed."

"As long as you are enjoying your experiments," Ziva said. "I am happy."

"Let me finish my Caf-Pow and we'll see about making you _very_ happy." Abby snuggled closer and began kissing Ziva's throat. She dipped her finger into the Caf-Pow syrup and wiped it over the point where Ziva's throat met her shoulder, then began sucking the spot with enthusiasm. "Now this is the way to have Caf-Pow," she said when she lifted her head. She put more syrup on Ziva's chest and licked it from her skin.

Ziva's phone beeped and she had to force herself to answer it. "I need to take this. Sorry." She was shaking slightly as she tried to contain her arousal, but she quickly opened the new file and called up a photo of Kenneth Shaffer.

Abby went back to her Caf-Pow.

Ziva sighed, her arousal cooling. "Abby?"

"Yes?" Abby drew the word out as she filled her glass with the perfect concoction, and then drank half of it in three gulps.

"You need to look at this," Ziva said. She held out her phone. "This is Kenneth Shaffer. He may be working with Mawher."

"Are you telling me that my stalker now has a personal assistant?" Abby slammed her glass down. "Because that is just wrong."

Ziva smiled at her lover's indignation and her pouting expression. "More like a crazy partner," she said.

"Oh, joy, as if one nutcase wasn't enough." Abby let her breath out in a huff. "From now on, when I meet anyone, and I mean anyone, as my girlfriend, it's your sacred duty to do a complete Spy Queen background check on them."

"Girlfriend?" Ziva's smile could only be called sappy.

"Well, yeah," Abby said. "Is that okay?"

Ziva lunged forward and kissed Abby, pushing her back until she bumped the counter, yet never breaking the kiss.

When Abby finally came up for air, she pulled Ziva into a hug, both women with matching goofy grins. "I guess you approve?"

Ziva nodded.

"So, are you in for the background checks?" Abby joked.

Ziva laughed dangerously and pulled back far enough to make eye contact. "What makes you think I was not already planning to do just that?"

"Cool," Abby said, basking in the knowledge that Ziva was her personal investigator. "Hey," she said, just remembering a bit of information. "There's some new guy in my lab right now."

"I will have a complete background dossier prepared before you go back to work. I will even include pictures of his kindergarten teacher and the doctor who delivered him, if you desire," Ziva promised. "Now, about you making me _very_ happy?" Ziva asked wickedly.

"I always keep my word." Abby turned and headed toward the bedroom, her hips swinging suggestively.

Ziva grabbed a beaker of Caf-Pow syrup and followed her lover down the hall.

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Dr. Cassidy Murray smiled as she came up to the nurse's station and leaned against the desk. "Hey, Sara, curtain two is gonna need a surgical consult." She ran her hand through her shoulder length blonde hair. "I think they'll admit him," she said.

"Appendix?" asked Sara.

"Yeah and it's going south fast, so see if you can put a rush on this," the young doctor said. "Who's next?"

"Slow day," Sara said. "There's a young guy in curtain four. He's an RA at the Georgetown dorm and he thinks he has meningitis." She rolled her eyes. "I think he may be suffering from DCS. No fever. Normal BP, heart rate like a train watch, and about to hyperventilate."

"Discovery Channel Syndrome?" Dr. Murray laughed, and it lit up her brown eyes. "Let me guess, they reran that piece on Meningitis in college campus housing?"

Sara gasped and grabbed her chest. "You must be psychic!"

"Yeah," Dr. Murray agreed.

"Excuse me, I'm Agent Gibbs, NCSI, and I'm looking for Dr. Cassidy Murray," Gibbs said as he held up his badge. Sergeant Williams had suggested that he immediately identify himself.

Dr. Murray spun, a bit startled. She looked at his badge, then to his face. "I'm Dr. Cassidy Murray. How can I help you, Agent Gibbs?" she asked. Her eyes darted to where DiNozzo and McGee stood behind Gibbs.

"Do you have a moment to answer a few questions?" Gibbs asked. "It's important."

DiNozzo rushed forward, bumping McGee aside in his hast. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he said with his most charming smile. "Everyone calls me Tony."

She looked a bit taken back. "There's a lounge right down the hall," she told Gibbs, not giving DiNozzo anything to work with.

"Thank you," McGee said quietly. "We appreciate you taking time away from your patients."

Dr. Murray turned as she walked and looked at McGee. He was a few paces behind DiNozzo and Gibbs as the group went into a small employee lounge. "And you are?"

"Oh, sorry," McGee smiled bashfully. "Agent McGee," he said as he closed the door to the room and then extended his hand. It was a throwback to his upbringing, something about the beautiful doctor made him fall back to his boyhood manners.

She took his hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you," she said sincerely. "What does NCIS want with me?" She turned to Gibbs nervously. He was obviously the man in charge.

DiNozzo shot McGee a glare.

McGee shrugged.

"We're working a stalking case," Gibbs said.

"I take it the victim is in the Navy? Did I treat her?" she asked. She sat on the small couch and curled her legs up under her. She suddenly paled. "Is Kenneth Shaffer involved?"

Gibbs pulled a chair away from the small table and brought it closer to the young doctor and sat. "We don't know if he's involved," Gibbs explained. "The victim works with us, at NCIS. Her stalker is a friend of Kenneth Shaffer."

"Then I suggest you keep her under lock and key," Dr. Murray said. She wrapped her arms over her chest as if she was fighting off a chill. "I had to change my name and quit my job to get away from Kenneth Shaffer." The vibrant doctor's personality seemed to shrink and she leaned back into the overstuffed couch as if she could hide in the cushions.

DiNozzo started to speak, but McGee cut him off. "Are you okay?" He moved forward, wincing when DiNozzo hit him with a displeased glare. "Do you need a jacket or something? You look a little shocky."

That seemed to do just the trick. The doctor sighed and nodded. "My jacket is hanging by the door, the blue one."

McGee quickly retrieved it.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled it on. The brief distraction seemed to focus her. "I apologize. It's a bit of a shock talking about him again. Now, how can I help your friend?"

DiNozzo shot a glare at McGee, but McGee simply shrugged.

"Did you ever hear Shaffer mention a man named Mikel Mawher?" Gibbs asked.

Dr. Murray thought for a moment. "Not that I recall."

"Do you know where we can find Kenneth Shaffer?" Gibbs asked.

"No," she said sharply. "Hell, no." She stood and paced. "The last time I saw him, he had a very big gun, which he used to put three holes in my front door." She met Gibbs eyes. "And yes, you bet I moved. I lost a bundle on that townhouse and I don't care." She pulled her jacket and shirtsleeve up on her left arm. "This was one of his other shots," she said, pointing at a bullet scar just under her elbow.

"Any idea where he might go?" Gibbs asked.

"He likes college," she said. "Loves the campus life. He was working as a lab assistant when I met him in my last year of med school."

"Were you with him long?" Gibbs asked.

"Two months," she said bitterly. "And I've been running from him for almost a decade."

There was a tap at the door and Sara peeked her head into the room. "Doc, Discovery Channel guy thinks his meningitis may be spreading," she said with a snicker. "He says it might be an aneurism, too."

"I'll be there soon," Dr. Murray said with a thin smile.

Gibbs could read the two women's sarcastic appraisal, so he didn't think he was putting anyone in jeopardy. "Just a few more questions," he said.

Dr. Murray turned to Gibbs. "I want to give you all the help I can," she said honestly. "Let me go convince this kid his head isn't about to explode, and then I'll be right back, okay?"

Gibbs nodded.

"If you've got a picture of your guy, I could see if I recognize him," she said as she left the room.

"Pull a picture up on that fancy phone of yours," Gibbs told McGee.

"And stop with the flirting." DiNozzo slapped the back of McGee's head. "Oh, let me fetch your jacket, Dr. Hottie," he added in a high-pitched tone.

"The woman was going into shock," Gibbs said gruffly. "The jacket took her mind off the stalker who's been hunting her for a decade so she could answer our questions."

"Yeah," McGee said lamely. He was only trying to be polite. He took out his iPhone, pulled up the picture, and put it on the table.

"Excuse me, guys. Snack time." Sara came into the room and went to her locker and grabbed her wallet. She eyed DiNozzo, who had his stomach sucked in and his chest puff out.

"Ma'am." DiNozzo flashed his 1000 watts smile.

The nurse shook her head at DiNozzo and than glanced down at McGee's iPhone. "I've been thinking about getting one of those," she said excitedly.

DiNozzo glared at McGee. Lately, all the women seem to flock to the geek.

"Take a look." McGee smiled and slid it toward her.

Sara saw the image and frowned. "That's the guy in curtain four," she said slowly.

"Show me to curtain four," Gibbs said as he pulled his gun from his holster. "Now."

* * *

"Do not even think of moving," Ziva said dangerously.

"You don't scare me, Spy Queen," Abby said as she moved a few inches to the left.

"Abby," Ziva said indignantly. "I was finally comfortable," she whined in a very non-Spy Queen manner.

That got Abby's attention. "Geeze, I'm sorry," she said as she tried to move back to her original position. She was sitting on the sofa, with Ziva resting on the floor between her legs, using the sofa as a backrest.

"Ouch." Ziva winced when Abby's leg bumped the stitches on her shoulder.

"I pack you in fluffy pillows and your back hurts," Abby said. "But park you on the hard floor and lean you against the sofa and suddenly you're comfy?"

Ziva looked over her shoulder at Abby. "The pillows mould to my body."

"Lucky pillows," Abby interrupted.

Ziva smiled tolerantly at her lover. "The hard surface does not. I can position my injuries so they are not touching anywhere painful. The fluffy pillows end up touching the injuries no matter what I do."

"Oh," Abby said. "Well, then get your back back over here." She patted her legs. "You'll have to run the remote," she pointed at the remote on the coffee table, which she had been reaching for when the conversation began. "Then we can start the movie."

Ziva leaned back against Abby and rested her elbows on Abby's knees. "I have another suggestion," she said shyly. She twisted around a bit. "I know you wanted to catch up on your forensics reading…"

"How did you know?" Abby's expression showed her shock.

"Spy Queen, remember?" Ziva reached under the sofa and pulled out a stack of papers. She handed them to Abby.

"You printed the latest article on overlapping fingerprints?" Abby asked with obvious glee. She leaned forward and kissed the top of Ziva's head and then leaned back and began scanning the article. "Wait, what about you?"

"Ah," Ziva said as she reached under the sofa again, this time retrieving a magazine. "I have my own catching up."

Abby snagged the magazine and read the cover. " _Le Monde Diplomatique_. Sounds sexy." She leered at her lover. "What is it? French porn?"

Ziva laughed and grabbed the magazine back. "A Paris-based political magazine," Ziva said.

"Ick," Abby said. "Who reads political magazines?" She noticed that the cover had Ziva's name and PO Box number. "And who the hell subscribes to them?"

"It was a gift," Ziva explained as she began thumbing through the pages. She paused and sighed sadly before looking back at Abby. "From Jenny."

Abby ran her hand through Ziva's hair. "That does sound like something she would read." She saw the pain in Ziva's eyes. "You miss her." It was a statement, not a question. "I see you look up the stairs sometimes and you have this sad expression."

Ziva nodded. Jenny had been her best friend and her only real confidante in the US. "I am sure it is the same expression you sometimes still get when you look at my desk," Ziva said quietly.

"Yeah," Abby agreed, her fingers were still combing through Ziva's hair. "I don't know if I'll ever stop missing Kate," she whispered.

"You will not," Ziva said as she squeezed Abby's leg. "But the pain will fade until you think mostly of the good times and smile."

* * *

Gibbs followed the nurse out of the break room, but he didn't need her help finding curtain four.

A woman screamed from down the hall. Gibbs, McGee and DiNozzo headed toward the sound with guns drawn. Mikel Mawher was holding Dr. Murray around the throat and dragging her toward the waiting room.

"Give it up, Mawher," Gibbs said. His gun was aimed between Mawher's eyes, but he couldn't take the shot because Mawher was swinging the doctor in front of him.

McGee and DiNozzo were both trying to get an angle on a shot as well.

"They make us do this," Mawher said, pressing the barrel of his gun to the doctor's temple. "They say they don't want us, but they do." He shoved the barrel closer, making Dr. Murray wince in pain. "She loves Kenny, she just won't admit it."

"Why don't you let the doctor go and we can discuss it?" Gibbs suggested.

"You mean, so you can shoot me," Mawher said. His eyes darted from side to side as he continued dragging the doctor down the hallway.

"Works for me," DiNozzo whispered to McGee.

A door to the stairwell opened and Gibbs tensed, thinking that whoever was coming through the door was going to put Mawher over the edge and gunshots were soon to follow.

Kenneth Shaffer stepped into the hall and moved beside Mawher and took the doctor from him. Mawher ducked out the door and was sprinting down the stairs before the door had even closed, but the doctor resisted, so Shaffer missed the chance to escape.

"I told you I'd find you," Shaffer told the doctor as he used her as a shield.

"Mr. Shaffer, why don't you try to calm down?" Gibbs said as he edged closer.

"Who the hell are you?" Shaffer demanded. He was backing down the hall because he couldn't open the door while holding both the gun and the doctor.

"The guy who's trying to save your life," Gibbs said. He moved another step closer.

"We need to go after Mawher," DiNozzo said.

"One crisis at a time," Gibbs said under his breath. He knew if McGee and DiNozzo made any sudden movements, Shaffer would panic.

Shaffer had his fingers around the doctor's throat, holding her against his chest, which blocked any shot. "Tell me you missed me." He shook her by the throat and slammed the barrel of the gun under her chin.

She coughed, unable to say anything.

Gibbs took another step closer. "She can't talk with you choking her," Gibbs said calmly. "Why don't you loosen your grip while we talk?"

"She doesn't talk," Shaffer said as he shook her again, but his grip loosened enough for her to take a coughing breath. "She ignores me. She sends me restraining orders." His eyes were darting nervously. "That's her version of a love letter." He pressed the gun to her temple and kissed the back of her head, making her shudder in disgust.

"Well, maybe I can talk to her for you," Gibbs suggested. He locked his eyes with Dr. Murray's. "Cassidy, maybe you just haven't given him a fair chance." Gibbs held his gun at shoulder height, waiting to strike. "You should just relax and stop struggling. Don't even move at all. Enjoy being with him."

Dr. Murray went completely still. She had been trying to struggle, but she read Gibbs' intent.

"That's better," Gibbs told Shaffer. "See? She just needs me to explain what you want."

Shaffer licked his lips and looked at Dr. Murray. He lowered his gun away from her head and leaned forward, with his face beside hers so he could put a kiss where the barrel had been.

The sound of the shot seemed even louder as it echoed down the long, tiled hall. Dr. Murray was frozen, still as a statue, as Shaffer's body slumped at her feet. As soon as he hit the floor, she started shaking with fear, but stood in place even as Gibbs rushed forward.

"Easy," Gibbs said as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him and then guided her on past him. "He's not gonna hurt you again." He kicked the gun away from Shaffer's limp hand.

Dr. Murray hurried down the hall and leaned against the wall. She looked at McGee and began crying silently, tears running down her cheeks.

McGee stepped between Dr. Murray and Shaffer's dead body. His gun was still drawn, but he handed her a handkerchief from his pocket with his free hand.

"Thanks," she said. She leaned around him, needing to see Shaffer. The man who had haunted her for so long looked harmless and small sprawled on the floor. There was a round bullet hole between his eyes and a line of blood ran across his forehead into a growing pool of blood on the white tile. His eyes were vacant. She knew he would never bother her again.

"McGee, secure the scene," Gibbs barked his order. "DiNozzo, you're with me." He ran toward the stairwell.

"One crazy down, one to go," DiNozzo said as he followed Gibbs.

* * *

They searched the hospital and then Kenneth Shaffer's apartment. They found no clues at the hospital, but they recovered Mikel Mawher's computer at the apartment.

Three hours later, Gibbs pulled up to the gate at the Navy Yard. He nodded at the guard who waved him through. Gibbs sighed and gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make the plastic creak.

"Frustrated, Boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"What gave you that idea, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' jaw clenched tightly. "Could it be that we managed to find a guy we were chasing for a few hours, yet we can't seem to get Abby's stalker, who we've been chasing for almost a week?" he said, raising his voice.

"Uh, yeah, that would be my guess." DiNozzo tried to shrink into the front seat of the car.

"At least we gave Dr. Murray some closure," McGee said from the back seat.

"Dr. Murray?" DiNozzo twisted around so he was facing the backseat. "Don't you mean _Cassidy_?" He gave McGee a lethal glare. "Cassidy. That is the name she scribbled in her messy doctor's handwriting when she gave you her phone number, right?"

McGee put his hand over his pocket, thinking DiNozzo must have stolen the business card in his jacket.

"Aha," DiNozzo said. "I knew it." He spun and slammed his back against the seat, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm in some Bizarro World. That's the only explanation." He stared out the window as Gibbs moved into the parking structure. "Old ladies usually love me," he whined. "Only in Bizarro World would that lady Ph.D. treat me like the ugly stepchild." He turned and glared at McGee. "And only in Bizarro World would you get the hot doctor's phone number while I was busy digging through dumpsters looking for Mawher."

"You've always been the hunky frat boy." McGee smiled and relaxed against the backseat. "The problem is that you're getting a bit long in the tooth."

DiNozzo gasped and spun. "I am not!"

"I'm the geek," McGee said happily. "We improve with age. Look at Steve Jobs." He paused for a dramatic beat. "Then look at Steve McQueen. Which one is still turning heads?"

"Steve McQueen is dead," DiNozzo pointed out. "Long dead, as a matter of fact."

"So's your love life," McGee said with a chipper grin.

DiNozzo narrowed his eyes.

"I wouldn't squint," McGee said helpfully. "Causes crow's feet."

"Shut up," DiNozzo said. "Besides, that's one geek who made it. The only one."

"Bill Gates…" McGee smiled. "…versus Bill Shatner."

"Shut up," DiNozzo said as he started to pout. "I am not Bill Shatner." He ran his hand over his belly, checking for any weight gain, then ran a hand through his hair to check for thinning.

Gibbs turned off the car and climbed out of the vehicle. He had a wicked smirk, glad to see McGee getting the best of DiNozzo for a change. He wiped the smirk away as his two agents got out of the car. "Shouldn't you two be focused on our case?"

"Yeah," DiNozzo said to McGee.

"Sure thing, Boss." McGee hurried his pace and the three men headed to the elevator.

The elevator door closed and the sound of the car trunk opening broke the silence of the dimly lit parking structure. Mikel Mawher climbed out of the trunk and made his way to the stairwell entrance. Abby would now have to pay for the death of his friend. Kenny Shaffer had understood him. They were kindred spirits. It would serve Abby right if he killed her best friends before killing her.


	4. Close Protection Officer 13-16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Ziva shifted her weight and let out a lazy sigh. She was resting on top of Abby, waiting for the alarm to go off. She thought spending three days away from work would be difficult, that the time would drag and the lack of cases would make her go stir crazy. She was wrong. The days spent getting to know Abby better passed far too quickly. She loved sitting on the couch while they each read their own materials, sometimes reading an interesting bit to the other.

Abby had even insisted that Ziva read from her French magazine, an article about relations between the French government and the people from the Bast region. Abby hadn't understood a word, but the lyrical language had inflamed Abby's passions, convincing Ziva to make a point of speaking French more often.

Now, they had to return to work. Ziva glanced at the alarm clock, willing the time to move more slowly. She rested her hand on Abby's cheek and gave her a tender kiss. Even asleep, Abby smiled into the contact. She parted her lips to give Ziva's tongue access and moved her hands across Ziva's body.

"Umm." Abby sighed as the kiss broke. She hadn't opened her eyes yet. "Tell me we don't have to go to work today," she said.

"I'm sorry, kitten. I cannot," Ziva replied. "I will not lie to you."

"How soon do we have to get up?" Abby rolled to one side, easing Ziva to the mattress beside her.

"One hour." Ziva kissed Abby again, this time more intensely.

"Not a lot of time," Abby said as she opened her eyes. "But it'll have to do." She carefully shifted Ziva onto her back. She knew her lover's skin was still tender, but she also knew that after three days of rest, Ziva was able to find a comfortable position on her back. Abby liked Ziva on her back. It gave Abby access that pleased them both very much.

"You are spoiling me." Ziva found a position that was comfortable and guided Abby onto her chest. "You make love to me day and night, feed me Cajun meals too rich for a Frenchman, and keep me in bed instead of sending me on my morning runs. Soon I will be as big as horse."

"House," Abby corrected. "There is no way that's gonna happen." She rolled her eyes and pressed her hand to Ziva's flat stomach. She moved her fingers, tracing the six-pack abs. "You gonna waste our time complaining or are you gonna kiss me?"

Ziva studied Abby. She traced Abby's lip with one thumb and her eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I am going to kiss you. Did you have any doubts?"

"Not one," Abby swore. She leaned down and let her emotion come through her loving kisses. It was true. She had no doubts. She was falling deeply in love with Ziva and had no worries. Every time Ziva looked at her, it was clear the feelings were mutual.

* * *

"Are they here yet?" DiNozzo peeked over the top of the divider that separated the desks from the rest of the large office.

"Do you see Ziva sitting at her desk?" McGee asked.

"No," DiNozzo said as his eyes lingered on the desk in question. "But I do see flowers." He moved around the divider, suddenly on a mission.

"Leave 'em alone, Tony," McGee warned.

"Pfft!" DiNozzo waved a hand, dismissing McGee. He leaned over and examined the huge, and obviously expensive arrangement. The flowers were perfect red roses mixed with white lilies. The vase was crystal. "Dude, this is Waterford," Tony exclaimed.

"And its Ziva's," McGee added.

"A card…" DiNozzo noticed. He picked it up and felt the paper. "Heavy paper, handmade, very posh." He smelled the card. "Perfume." He inhaled deeply and his eyes widened. "No.1," he said in a shocked tone.

"Huh?" McGee asked.

"No.1," DiNozzo said excitedly. "As in Clive Christian's signature scent that is so incredible they just call it _Number one_. It costs about twenty-one hundred bucks an ounce."

"And that means?" McGee drew the question out.

"That means Ziva has an admirer. A female admirer, unless Ziva's seeing a cross-dresser with exceptional taste," DiNozzo said. He raised his eyebrows and scratched his cheek with the card. "Hmm," Tony said as he lifted the envelope seal and peeked inside.

"Don't do it, Tony," McGee warned.

"Shut up, Probie. I still haven't forgiven you for eating every last Ho-Ho in the vending machine," DiNozzo said and then opened the card. "The plot thickens!" He cleared his throat and read from the card. " _Thank you, for your diligence_." He opened his mouth in shock. "Sounds kinky." He smiled before reading another line. " _I enjoyed hearing the beautiful accent of our homeland."_ He gasped in mock surprise. "Our little spy is seeing someone from back home."

"Tony, you really shouldn't be doing this." McGee didn't think Ziva would approve of DiNozzo's snooping. "And I didn't eat the damn Ho-Hos."

"Oh, this is too good," DiNozzo said. " _Please call me if there is anything I can do for you, or if you would like to share dinner and discuss home. Anna."_ He tapped the card. "That's the way sexy Israelis make a booty call," he told McGee.

"Who is calling boots?" Ziva asked as she came around the corner and stared at the flowers on her desk and then the card in Tony's hand.

DiNozzo jumped as if scalded and tossed the card onto Ziva's desk.

"Tony," Abby said in a chastising tone coming alongside Ziva. "You can't just go through someone's stuff because they've been on sick leave." Her eyes stopped on the flowers and then she turned to Ziva and smiled. "Ambassador Grabbyhands?"

Ziva grinned and reached for the note, carefully as if it needed to be disinfected.

"Ooh," Tony said gleefully. "And just who is this Ambassador Anna Grabbyhands?"

"Anna?" Abby spun toward DiNozzo, then back to Ziva.

Ziva read the card. "A thank you," she said quietly. "For interrupting the bombing plot."

DiNozzo pouted. "I didn't get flowers from Ambassador Anna Grabbyhands."

"She is not the Ambassador," Ziva said. "And just why were you reading my card?" She waved the card in front of him.

Abby's eyes followed every move the card made as Ziva continued waving it.

Ziva caught her lover's gaze and cleared her throat. She handed the card to Abby. "I am certain it is only a courtesy."

"Hmpt." Abby's eyes scanned the card.

"Smell it," DiNozzo suggested. "Go ahead. Give it a sniff."

Abby inhaled, recognizing it as an expensive fragrance. "This _is_ a high classed booty call."

"What do my boots have to do with any of this?" Ziva asked.

"Booty call, Ziva," DiNozzo said with a leer. "Usually a late night, drunken call from an ex interested in coming over for a night of wild sex."

Abby took a step closer to her lover. "Or from a person you just met… looking for a night of wild sex," she added. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at the flowers.

"I assure you, there is not, nor will there be, any wild sex," Ziva said, suddenly feeling like she'd better send Abby flowers fast.

"Poor Ziva," DiNozzo said. "No wild sex for you." He shook his head. "Abbs, maybe after this is all over, you can take Ziva out for a night on the town. She needs a boost for her love life."

"You need to stay out of my personal business," Ziva said dangerously. She was about to say that her love life was going quite well, but then she saw Abby glaring at the flowers with murderous intent. "These are simply flowers from a thankful person. She is glad we stopped the bomber and that none of the families were hurt." Ziva caught Abby's eyes. "I am sure she is merely relieved we stopped an international incident."

"Red roses mean romantic love." DiNozzo sat on Ziva's desk next to the vase. "White lilies mean purity, or they can mean, and I quote, 'It's heavenly to be with you.' I've given enough of them to know," he added. "Did I mention the vase is Waterford crystal?"

"Booty call," Abby said.

Ziva sighed, wondering how she had gotten into so much trouble so early in the morning.

McGee suddenly found his desk extremely interesting. DiNozzo might be clueless, but McGee could see that Abby was marking her territory. That territory was Officer Ziva David. _'Man, Dr. Allison is one hell of a profiler,'_ he thought.

Finally Ziva went into damage control, which irked her because she hadn't actually done the damage. Ziva cleared her throat and said, "I am confident she did not mean the flowers to be romantic. More likely, she picked these flowers because she works at the Israeli embassy."

Abby gave her a skeptical look.

Ziva let out a grouchy sigh. "Roses and lilies are major exports from Israel," she said pointedly.

"Did Anna Grabbyhands tell you that?" Abby asked.

"No, " Ziva said defensively. She realized she wasn't making much progress. She grabbed Abby's hand and pulled her toward the stairwell. "Should you not get back to your lab?"

"Sure." Abby followed along behind her lover. She knew she was being overly sensitive and that Ziva couldn't control some woman she'd only spoken to on the phone once. Still, this was _her_ Ziva and she wanted to know why was some stupid embassy woman was hitting on her.

Ziva closed the door to the stairwell and pressed Abby against the wall. She kissed her, hard. Her hands moved up Abby's body, coming to rest on Abby's breasts and her thumbs tease the pebbled skin that met her touch. When she pulled out of the kiss, both were breathing heavily.

Abby wrapped her hands around Ziva's waist.

"Yours are the only boots I will ever call," Ziva stated.

Abby nodded, still a bit dazed.

"Abby," Ziva said firmly. "You have my heart." She took Abby's hand and pulled it to her chest and leaned forward so she could press her forehead to Abby's. She sighed and wondered how she had lost Abby's trust so easily.

"I know," Abby said. She gave Ziva a quick kiss. "I know I'm being stupid." She ran her hand up Ziva's back. "We're just so new and there's some woman from Israel suddenly hitting on you. I'm still getting used to the idea that you want me."

"I do," Ziva swore. "More than you know."

"Okay." Abby gave a quick nod. "Duly noted." She glanced around the empty stairwell. "Now, how 'bout you kiss me senseless before you take me to the lab?"

Ziva laughed and pressed Abby firmly against the wall again and proceeded to do just that.

* * *

"Wilbur!" Abby squealed when she saw the Marine waiting in front of her lab.

"Ma'am," he said politely. He held an extra large cup of coffee at arm's length when Abby gave him a short, one armed drive-by-hugging.

Ziva checked the lab and then led Abby inside.

"What the hell?" Abby ran to her desk. "Where's the report you promised on the guy that replaced me?" She spun and faced Ziva. "New lab guy is obviously insane. My stuff is completely messed up."

Ziva and Wilbur examined the neatly arranged papers and supplies on the desk. They looked at each other and shrugged in unison.

"Look at this," Abby demanded. " _This_ should be over _here_ ," she said as she moved a stapler approximately three inches to the left. "And _this_ , well, this shouldn't even _be_ here." She grabbed a Sharpie pen and grouchily carried it to the lab table and put it next to the unused slides. "Chaos," Abby said and then folded her arms over her chest.

"Complete chaos," Ziva agreed solemnly.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and looked at Ziva. She was known for her lethal skills, could kill with any implement, could kill with her bare hands, and Wilbur was terrified of her. _'Abby-whipped,'_ he thought. He wouldn't dare say that out loud, in fact, he'd take that thought to the grave because if he spoke that thought, Ziva would send him to his grave. Instead, he quietly sipped his black coffee like a good Marine.

Abby sat on her chair and spun. When she stopped, she looked at Ziva with a serious expression. "I think new lab guy is hatching a plot."

That got Ziva's full attention. She moved closer.

Abby's eyes narrowed. "I scanned the vending machine when we came in and every candy bar that does not have nougat is gone," Abby said. "The only candy left? Nougat!"

Ziva sighed and shook her head. She knew Abby had a deep-seated hatred of all things nougat. She should have realized something was wrong when Abby had paused at the snack area to give the vending machine a dirty look.

"So," Abby said as she raised one finger in the air. "Either he ate all the good candy, ignoring the fact that other people may hate nougat too, which is selfish and a little evil…" Abby paced, grabbing a pencil and tapping it to her lip. "Or… he _knows_ that I hate nougat… and left the nougat to taunt me, which is evil beyond evil." She pointed the pencil at Ziva as she finished her argument.

Ziva took the pencil. "When I compiled his dossier, I saw no mention of nougat," she said in a completely serious tone. She actually had done a complete background check on the temporary lab technician who replaced Abby the previous days. The man was harmless.

"You did check him, didn't you?" Abby paused and then slapped her arm. "Ziva." She rolled her eyes and almost hugged her lover, but then remembered Wilbur was still present.

Ziva blushed. "When I go out today, I will bring you back a candy bar without the demonic nougat," she promised.

Abby couldn't resist any longer. She hugged Ziva, inhaling her lover's scent as if she could take in Ziva's essence with it.

Wilbur was doing his best to blend into the wall. He didn't move until Ziva and Abby said their goodbyes and Ziva left. As soon as Ziva was gone, Wilbur sighed and slightly relaxed.

* * *

An hour later, Ziva and McGee were at Kenneth Shaffer's apartment. After McGee failed to find anything on Mawher's confiscated computer, he suspected there might be an external hard drive hidden at the apartment. Gibbs sent Ziva along so she could add a fresh set of eyes.

Half an hour into the second search revealed nothing and McGee was getting frustrated. "Maybe we should go," he suggested.

"No," Ziva said, drawing the word out. She stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, her eyes taking in everything. "There is something else here." She tapped a finger on her lip. "I can feel it." Years of observing dangerous situations, where missing even a minute detail could be deadly, had honed Ziva's ability to read a scene. Sometimes her subconscious picked up on a tiny detail and her body would go on high alert before she could pinpoint the source.

McGee waited, remaining silent as he watched Ziva's eyes scan the room. She was like a hawk, high in the sky, searching a field for a juicy mouse in tall grass hundreds of yards below.

She sighed, frustrated.

"Well, at least we don't have two roomfuls of evidence to log," he said cheerfully. McGee always found the bright side of any situation. It was one of the things Ziva admired most about him.

"I will log whatever we find," Ziva offered. She would find something. She could feel it.

"Great," McGee said. "It took seven hours and a team from Homeland Security to deal with all the stolen stuff from Ghazi Nasser's place. I'd be happy if I never saw another evidence slip in my life."

Ziva nodded and continued her scrutiny of the small space, slowly spinning several more times. She rubbed her chin and then squatted in the center of the room, changing her perspective before scanning in each direction again. Something caught her eye.

"There," she said after a moment. She went to the wall and pointed at four minute round indentations in the carpet.

McGee came over and looked at the marks. He had to lean down because they were faint, barely more than small areas where the carpet fiber was pressed a bit lower than the rest.

"The chair," Ziva said triumphantly.

McGee retrieved the chair and brought it to the marks. He carefully lined the feet of the chair up with the indentations on the carpet. He looked at it, confused as to what came next.

Ziva leaned her weight onto her heels and rubbed her chin, eyes alert and constantly scanning the room. She nodded at a vent on the wall. She was already wearing latex gloves, so she wasn't worried about disturbing any prints. She climbed up on the chair to reach the vent. Her knife was in her hand before McGee could offer her his Leatherman multi-tool.

"What'cha got?" he asked as she removed the vent cover.

"Not a hard drive." Ziva sighed unhappily. She reached in and pulled out two boxes of ammo. "Thirty-eight caliber," she said as she held out the first box to him.

"That's for the gun at the hospital," McGee said, carefully taking the ammunition in his gloved hands.

"But this is not," Ziva said. "Nine millimeter."

"Great, he's got another weapon," McGee said as he took the second box of ammunition.

"It gets worse," Ziva said as she reached far back into the vent. She looked down at McGee and held out a clear plastic box with black foam packing that had a section cut out for something tubular. "Silencer," Ziva said. "He has learned from practicing on you and Tony."

"So now, he can get more than one shot in before Tony hides like a little girl," McGee said.

Ziva nodded grimly.

* * *

DiNozzo was in Abby's lab complaining. "I've had it, Abby," he whined like a little girl. "McGee ate all the Ho-Hos."

"That doesn't sound like Tim." Abby's eyes widened. "It was probably the evil new lab guy. Did you see the candy selection?" she asked indignantly.

"Nougat," DiNozzo said with a disgusted snarl.

"Nougat," Abby confirmed angrily. "I'm thinking of changing his name to evil _stinky_ new lab guy," she added. She crinkled her brow. "Or maybe stinky evil new lab guy. I haven't decided, but I'm thinking I should lead with stinky because, well, hello? Take a sniff."

DiNozzo frowned, but sniffed as ordered. "Apparently stinky new lab guy has an aversion to showers," he agreed. There was a slight lingering odor of sweat.

"Stinky _evil_ new lab guy. Don't forget the nougat," Abby said.

"Maybe _he_ ate the freakin' Ho-Hos," DiNozzo said as he slammed a hand on the counter.

Abby spun toward Wilbur. "If you see stinky evil new lab guy, shoot him."

Wilbur saluted. "Yes, ma'am." He sipped his black coffee and then placed it on the counter behind him. He wanted it as far from the things Abby worked with as possible. She currently had tests running on a mysterious toxin and was testing some blood samples on another machine.

Abby glanced over at Wilbur. She always felt safer when Wilbur sipped his Starbuck's coffee. It made him look like a mini-Gibbs, or rather, a maxi-Gibbs, considering he was six feet three inches tall, and not a bald clone from a spy movie.

"Hey, did Ducky get anything off the disembodied hand?" DiNozzo asked. "I half-expected it to crawl away in the night."

"Not a happy subject," Abby said with a glare. "I still haven't forgiven you for that."

Wilbur frowned at DiNozzo. He was also remembering the hand incident.

Abby poked her camera link to Ducky's lab, but nothing happen. She poked it again. Nothing. "Stinky evil new lab guy is so dead." She marched toward the door. "He killed my camera link."

"Fiendish bastard," DiNozzo said. "Right?" he asked Wilbur, who was following Abby.

"Yes, sir," Wilbur said as he raced after Abby.

* * *

Ziva and McGee returned with snacks and a huge supply of candy for Abby.

"Here ya' go, Tony." McGee hurled a bag of Ho-Hos at his friend.

"Sweet." DiNozzo opened the package happily. "Ah, Ho-Hos, a snack cake so great they named it twice."

"And we all know how partial you are to 'hoes," McGee said.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ziva asked. She had an evidence envelope and was logging the ammunition and silencer box.

"Big meeting upstairs," DiNozzo said around the entire Ho-Ho in his mouth. He completely ignored McGee's jibe. "That IDF guy Alon is there and Gibbs really doesn't like him." He stuffed the second Ho-Ho in without swallowing the first.

"Geeze, Tony." McGee looked a little nauseous. "You'd think you never had a Ho-Ho."

DiNozzo swallowed, with difficulty. "Blame stinky evil new lab guy," DiNozzo said. "That's what we're calling him now," he explained before they asked. "I call him Stinky for short."

"Stinky?" Ziva looked dubious. She held up a hand. "Never mind. I do not want to know." She went back to her evidence. She glanced up the stairs, toward the office that used to be Jenny's, and scowled. She and Gibbs agreed about Alon. She didn't like the Israeli Defense Forces officer either.

* * *

Abby returned to her lab even grouchier. Ducky had no new information from the severed hand, but he was full of compliments for the 'wonderful young man that stood in your stead,' and even asked Abby to follow up on some culture samples Dave left running. The cultures were from the trace evidence 'Dave' had taken from the hand. 'Dave,' that was what Ducky called Stinky.

"Stood in my stead?" Abby asked Wilbur when they passed through her lab door. "He ruined my camera link. That cannot be forgiven." She turned to Wilbur, who had his now cold coffee halfway to his lips. "You need to put a BOLO out on Stinky."

Wilbur shrugged and gulped down his coffee.

"Well, you do." Abby sat at her desk and twirled one of her braids, and then sighed. "Stupid stinky 'Dave.'" She went to the incubator and decided she'd better check the cultures to see what had grown overnight. She was not happy to find a perfectly streaked set of Petri dishes. "I guess stinky Dave gets a gold star."

Wilbur really didn't envy stinky Dave. He threw away his empty cup and came closer, curious as to what Abby was doing. "Oh, man," he said and backed away when Abby lifted one of the covers off a Petrie dish. The tiny colonies of bacteria released a wave of odor. It was disgusting, like a mix of month old beer and a moldy pile of socks from a platoon of Marines after a three-day march.

"Stinky Dave even has stinky cultures," Abby said as if her replacement was to blame for the odor. She nodded at the small round colonies on the Petrie dish. They were bright red and they emitted a foul smell. "Probably _Kocuria rosea_ ," she explained. "Formerly known as _Micrococcus roseus_ , until there was a fascinating need to reclassify them." She lit a Bunsen burner and used the flame to heat a small metal loop, which she waved in the air to cool. "That's the stinky bacteria collected by stinky Dave."

"Yes, ma'am." Wilbur yawned, wishing he had another cup of coffee.

Abby used the sterilized loop to collect a sample of the bacteria, which she put into a tiny vial used for DNA replication. "Stinky _Kocuria rosea_ , a common airborne bacteria that lives just about everywhere," she said as she worked. "But there are a few exotic strains." She turned to Wilbur and smiled. "Including one that lives in the Antarctic. That one is so cool, _Kocuria polaris_."

Wilbur listened silently. He was happy that Abby's mood was improving now that she was back doing her lab work.

Abby turned and gave him a huge smile. "Oh, and one from the Mediterranean, which this one could be, what with blown up hand guy possibly being from the other side of the world."

"Uh huh," Wilbur said with another yawn. He really wanted another coffee.

Ten minutes later Abby was back to her chipper self. Her music was blaring and she was now hopeful that stinky Dave's bacteria might actually be useful. Once she finished the PCR, which would replicate thousands of copies of the DNA, she could run it and get a DNA 'fingerprint' profile. That could be matched to a sample if they found any other suspects.

"Ma'am?" Wilbur asked uncertainly.

Abby turned to see her huge Marine slapping one hand toward the tabletop as he slumped to the ground.

"Wilbur!" she yelled and rushed to his side. It was instinct, to see if he was okay. It wasn't until she had her hand to his neck and felt a rapid pulse that she thought to call for help. She turned to get her phone and saw Mikel Mawher dropping to the floor from an air conditioning duct in the ceiling.

"I wouldn't," Mikel said when he saw her start to scream. He aimed a gun at her.

Abby stared at him and then the gun. Even in the middle of the crisis, she rattled off the facts in her head. _'Glock model 19, nine millimeter, 15 round capacity, double action, 4.02-inch barrel, polymer frame, matte finish, fixed sights, and a silencer. I am so screwed,'_ she thought grimly. The silencer was the problem. He could shoot fifteen times and no one would hear. One shot would kill.

Mikel paced, his eyes never leaving Abby.

Abby started to breathe a bit more heavily and suddenly a mystery was solved. Mikel gave off the foul odor of rancid sweat. He must have been hiding at NCIS for a while. She glanced at the camera link and sighed. It looked like she owed Dave an apology.

Mikel switched off the music. "What's the matter, Abby? Nothing to say for once?" His tone was cruel and his eyes darted nervously.

Abby's eyes were drawn to her desk. Her taser was in the middle drawer of that desk. "What did you do to Wilbur?" she asked.

"Me? Nothing," Mikel said, but then he laughed. The B-movie cackling would have been funny if the man doing it hadn't had a wide-eyed, insane expression and a gun. "Now, the eight doses of Roofies I put in his coffee when you were gone… that might be doing something to him."

Abby bent down next to Wilbur and ran her fingers through his hair. It was close-cropped on the sides and a bit longer on top, the way Gibbs wore his. It made Wilbur look incredibly young. Abby closed her eyes. _'Ziva, please come to the lab,'_ she thought as she fought to keep from panicking.

* * *

DiNozzo threw a wad of paper at McGee. "You're off the hook for those Ho-hos."

"Told you I didn't eat them," McGee said. "Who did?"

"Stinky," DiNozzo said.

"Enough!" Ziva said. She slammed her hands on the desk. "Who is this 'stinky'? Who names a person stinky?"

"Stinky ate all the good stuff in the vending machine," DiNozzo said as if Ziva had a relapse of her bomb related hypothermia. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "The stinky lab guy that messed up Abby's precious geek toys," DiNozzo said as if talking to an imbecile.

"You really are a child," Ziva said with a sigh. "Why exactly do you call him stinky?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Cuz he left Abby's lab smelling like a locker room." DiNozzo he lifted one hand and pointed in the air. "Stinky."

Ziva felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her expression showed her racing thoughts as her conscious mind tried to catch up to what her subconscious was trying to tell her. She reached up and touched her shirt where it covered her _Magen David_. She could feel the familiar press of the six-pointed shape against her skin as her mind bounced over the previous days' events.

"What?" McGee asked. He put his sandwich down and stood. "Ziva?"

Ziva's face paled. "When Gibbs came back from the hospital shooting, after you went to Shaffer's apartment, did the guard stop you at the gate?"

DiNozzo suddenly knew something was wrong. Ziva looked scared and her question was entirely too specific for his taste. "No. They always wave Gibbs through."

"Mawher is here. McGee, come with me." Ziva sprinted for the stairwell. "Get Gibbs," she yelled over her shoulder to DiNozzo. She opened the door and took the stairs three at a time.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Ziva paused at the bottom of the stairs. When she had responded to Abby's 911 text several days earlier, she had rushed in without any thought other than to get to her lover. Now, after hearing about Mawher with Dr. Murray, she didn't want to risk spooking him. He had been willing to shoot the doctor. He would certainly shoot Abby.

She opened the stairwell door slowly, taking a quick look toward Abby's basement lab. The lights were out. The sight of the darkened lab made Ziva's body chill. She turned and saw McGee coming down the stairs to join her and she formulated a plan.

In the lab, Abby was trying to stall. "Mikel, you really don't want to do this." Abby glanced to her lab coat hanging on her chair. She cringed to realize that it held her cell phone and the knife Ziva had given her. "You like me. You really don't want to hurt me," Abby tried.

"But I do," he said calmly. "And I'm going to." He twisted her wrist.

"Ouch," Abby cried out. "That hurts," she said.

"That's the point, Abby," he said cruelly and then wrenched her arm painfully. "Where's your friend?" His tone was like ice. "Ziva?"

"Why?" Abby asked as he dragged her to the back of the lab. Her heart pounded. She was amazed he couldn't hear it.

"Your friends killed my best friend," Mikel said, almost sounding sane. "I'm going to return the favor." He slammed Abby's back against the wall of the basement and pinned her there by pressing the gun's silencer to her forehead. "Remember these?" He pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket and clicked them onto her left wrist. "These aren't the ones we used, of course, but they'll do." He used her cuffed wrist to spin her around and press her face to the wall.

Abby hissed as the second cuff closed, digging into her wrist and leaving her helpless. She heard someone in the hall, but before she could turn to look, she was thrown face down to the floor. She hit hard, landing on her chest because her cuffed hands couldn't brace her landing. Before she could even take a breath, Mikel was on top of her. His hand wrapped roughly over her mouth as the lab door opened.

"Shh," Ziva hissed extremely loudly. "Abby must be at lunch." She laughed. It was a sexy laugh that was completely out of place.

"She's gonna kill us," McGee said.

Abby could see their silhouettes, and what struck her was that their bodies were entirely too close together.

"Abby will not mind, Timmy." Ziva tossed McGee into the closed door and kissed him. It was a brief kiss and then she was pulling him to the floor. "Hurry," she said with husky laugh. "Get your pants down."

Abby's mind was about to implode. She was being held hostage, her lover was obviously doing some spy pretend sex, with McGee of all people, and that was going to be the last thing she saw in life.

Mikel squeezed his hand tighter around Abby's mouth. He yanked her onto her knees beside him. He leaned to look around the table. The two people on the floor didn't seem to notice him.

"Wait," McGee said. "Get this off," he yanked Ziva's black NCIS jacket off and flung it across the room.

Ziva laughed huskily and ripped her shirt off and tossed it away as well. She made certain she threw it over the table so Mawher would see it. "Like what you see, Timmy?" she asked. Her eyes had adjusted quickly and she was taking in every detail of the room. Sunlight from the small window at ground level across the room cast enough light to allow her to make out where Mawher was hiding. Under the table she could see Abby's legs. Abby was on her knees, so she was conscious.

"The bra too," McGee ordered. "Take it off. Now." He pushed her to the floor and covered her body with his and reached for her bra. He tilted his head and scanned the room, spotting Abby's feet protruding.

"Tim, you're so forceful," Ziva said. "Uh," she said loudly then whimpered.

Mawher was crawling behind the table, trying to get a better look. He fully intended to kill both of the agents, but he wanted to enjoy the show for a bit first.

Abby squirmed, but Mawher quickly pressed the gun to her neck and she stilled. She couldn't see her friends, but she quickly decided if McGee lived through this, she was going to kill him. She didn't want anyone else touching Ziva's bra or what it contained.

"Oh, God," Ziva said. Her voice was full of passion, but she was turned to the side, her eyes tracking the bodies behind the desk. She couldn't make out where their hands were so she had to improvise. "The table," Ziva said in an impatient tone. "Put me on the table like last time."

McGee stood and pulled her to her feet and pivoted so his back was to Mawher. Ziva guided him with her hands, letting him know that she wanted to be facing Mawher. McGee lifted Ziva and carried her to the table along the wall opposite from where Abby was being held. He sucked her collarbone, loudly. "I can't get my fly down," he said as he slammed Ziva onto the table. She was now sitting with her legs hanging over the table, her back against the wall. Her gun was in her right hand, hidden between their two bodies. McGee removed her black bra and sent it flying through the air. It slid to a stop a few feet from Mawher.

Mawher grabbed Abby by the hair and pulled her along with him as he crawled to one end of the table. The gun was pointing at the floor as he lifted his head above the desk to get a quick peek. His eyes locked on the two bodies together near the wall. In the near darkness he had time to register that the scantily clad woman was looking directly at him. He saw her brown eyes behind the sights of a very big gun and then a flash.

Abby flinched when she heard a gunshot, but the sound came from everywhere. She threw her body to the ground as glass showered down on her like sharp little snowflakes. The warm spray of blood settled to the ground around her but the handcuffs kept her from moving.

"Abby?" Ziva called out as she ran toward the table.

"She's fine," Gibbs said from the small ground level window behind Abby.

Abby managed to roll over and sit up just as McGee turned on the lights. She looked up at Gibbs, who had his gun drawn, having obviously just shot through the window. She glanced at Mawher and almost threw up. The top of head was pretty much gone.

"Abby?" Ziva repeated as she came around the table. She sighed in relief and scooped her lover up and half-carried her away from Mawher's body.

"I knew you'd come," Abby whispered as she leaned against Ziva's naked upper body.

"Shh, mon Chaton," Ziva whispered. "It is over." She skillfully unlocked the handcuffs without releasing Abby from her embrace.

Abby wrapped her arms around Ziva. The contact calmed her. She suddenly stiffened.

"Wilbur!" Abby yelled. She turned, not releasing her hold on Ziva.

"I'll check him." McGee handed Ziva her shirt. His cheeks were bright red. He hurried toward Wilbur.

Just as Ziva pulled on her shirt, Ducky and DiNozzo came through the doorway. DiNozzo scanned the room, gun drawn.

"Ducky, Wilbur's hurt," McGee said nervously.

"I don't see any blood," Ducky said as he knelt next to the young Marine.

"Mikel drugged him." Abby squeezed Ziva closer. "He put eight doses of Rohypnol in his coffee."

"We'll get him to the hospital," Ducky said as he tended to the downed man. "An ambulance is already en route."

DiNozzo went behind the table to disarm Mawher's body. He took one look and spun. "That's… oh my God." He covered his mouth.

Gibbs came into the lab door, having quickly made his way around the building and inside. "What's the matter, DiNozzo?" he asked. "Never seen a simultaneous double tap?"

Ducky chuckled. He was enjoying DiNozzo's discomfort. He looked toward the back of the lab and his trained eye noticed the blood sprayed across the walls. It looked like a cloud of the red liquid had spontaneously formed and then exploded. "If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Jethro signaled the kill shots from that window." Ducky pointed to the basement window.

Gibbs moved over to check Abby. In truth, he had fired when he saw Mawher lower his weapon, as had Ziva. The shots had been in unison because the two shooters took their shots the instant Abby was out of danger. Gibbs paused beside the two women. "You okay?" he whispered.

Abby nodded, but she wasn't going to move. She was clinging to Ziva with her face buried in Ziva's hair.

"One shot did that?" DiNozzo moved as far away from Mawher's half-head as he could.

"Jethro did say double tap," Ducky pointed out. He looked back at the wall. "The effects of two bullets arriving in unison, the forces from different projectiles at intersecting angles… well, obviously the effects are… extreme."

"Extremely gross," DiNozzo said.

McGee stood next to Ziva and cleared his throat.

Ziva gave him her attention.

He held out her bra.

Ziva took the bra and stuffed it into a pocket, knowing Abby needed comfort more than Ziva needed the bra back in place.

Abby's possessive side came to the surface. "You kissed her," she said as she pulled out of Ziva's embrace.

McGee opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He could recognize a furious, jealous lover and he knew Abby was capable of killing him without getting caught. He was pretty sure she wouldn't, but an irate Abby was nothing to take lightly.

"I know," DiNozzo said. "Bad enough Ziva got blown up. I'm not sure she'll ever get over the trauma of kissing McGee." It didn't even occur to him that Abby was more bothered by the kiss than Ziva was.

"Let me get you out of here," Ziva suggested. She took a step back and flinched when she twisted her torso.

"Did I hurt you?" McGee asked. He touched Ziva's shoulder, realizing he'd been rough with her during their improvised love scene.

"I am fine," Ziva said. "My wounds were already healing." She pulled Abby to the door. The smell of blood in the small lab was overwhelming and the number of people in the crowded space was quickly heating the room. That would only increase the sickeningly sweet smell.

"You're not fine Ziva," DiNozzo said with obvious concern. "You kissed Probie, for God sake."

Ziva smiled sweetly and met DiNozzo's eyes. "Actually, Timothy is a much better kisser than you are."

DiNozzo's eyes widened.

"Better hygiene too." Ziva patted his arm as she and Abby left the room.

"Probie a better kisser than me? Probie? No way," DiNozzo said firmly. "There's no way that's true."

"Timmy's a great kisser," Abby agreed. "You should try it," she added with a wicked smirk.

"Now I am gonna throw up." DiNozzo sagged against the wall and pouted.

* * *

Abby scrubbed her skin for thirty minutes, removing every trace of blood. She hadn't allowed Ziva out of her reach. That suited Ziva.

Ziva was getting more concerned with each passing minute. Abby was too quiet, sitting in the bullpen at Ziva's desk for twenty minutes, without saying anything.

Abby was in the chair with her elbows resting on her knees. She was still dealing with the shock of having a man she had dated stalk her, yet again. Now she had the image of his head instantly turning to goo. That made her think of the bomber guy. That made her think how close she had come to losing Ziva.

Ziva was sitting on the edge of her desk, watching Abby with clear concern. "Hey, would you like a Caf-Pow?" Ziva asked. "I will send McGee."

"Sure thing," McGee said as he stood eagerly. "The Boss is busy upstairs. I'm sure he won't mind."

"No thanks," Abby said quietly. She hadn't even moved at the mention of Caf-Pow.

"Would you like to go home?" Ziva asked. She rested a hand on Abby's back.

Abby smiled at the question. She lifted her head and looked up at Ziva. "Is it bad that when you ask that, the first thing I thought was how nice it would be relax on the couch with you. Your couch."

Ziva crinkled her brow and smiled. "Why would that be bad?" She ran a hand through Abby's hair.

"Home," Abby said. She raised one eyebrow, waiting for Ziva to catch up. "Your couch."

Ziva's smile brightened. "You think of my apartment as home?"

Abby blushed and looked down at the floor. She nodded.

"Good," Ziva whispered into Abby's ear. She lingered there, nuzzling her cheek against Abby's face.

McGee decided he needed to completely overhaul the first three chapters of his next book. _'No way is Lisa going to end up with Tommy,'_ he thought. The characters he based on Ziva and Tony needed a serious rewrite.

DiNozzo came down the stairs from the Director's office. He had an excited expression, like someone had just offered him free candy, porn, and hookers. Apparently he had recovered from seeing Mawher's body and from the insult to his kissing skills. He rushed to McGee's desk. "Probie!"

"What?" McGee asked suspiciously.

"You have got to see the woman in the Director's office." DiNozzo put his hand to his chest and let out a shaking breath. "Seriously, this is the hottest woman I have ever seen." He looked at McGee, his expression completely sincere. "Ever," he said again. "And that includes on the big screen."

Abby was intrigued enough to break her silence. "Better than Angelina Jolie?" She turned and watched as DiNozzo ran a comb through his hair.

DiNozzo waved a hand at her dismissively. "This woman makes Angelina look like Joan Rivers- Joan Rivers after the bad plastic surgery."

"Wow," Ziva said. She turned as well. "I thought you and McGee named Miss Jolie the hottest woman ever, for all time?"

"I hadn't met my future wife yet," DiNozzo said as he pointed toward the Director's office with his comb. "She resets the hot scale."

"Now, I am curious," McGee said. He stood and looked up the stairs. "Who is she?"

"My future wife," DiNozzo said. "And she has great taste. She was glaring at that Alon guy from the IDF."

"I like her already," Ziva said.

Abby chuckled, her mood improving with the familiar banter. "What's the future Mrs. DiNozzo look like, Tony?"

"Heaven. A Goddess," DiNozzo said. He looked like he was about to spin in a circle and break into song. "Seriously too hot to be a mere mortal." He sighed. "A body to die for. Like if Angelina Joile and Scarlett Johansson were mixed into one incredibly hot body."

"Okay, so she has a nice figure," Abby said. "What else?"

"Not nice," DiNozzo corrected. "The nicest. Ever. And she has naturally wavy black hair and green eyes like emeralds." He looked wistfully at the ceiling. "I want my kids to have those eyes."

"Black hair, green eyes?" Ziva leaned down and whispered in Abby's ear. "Nice combination." She touched Abby's black ponytail and looked into her green eyes.

Abby blushed.

"Are you sure she's even single?" McGee asked.

"Shh!" DiNozzo said. "Here she comes."

McGee was sipping his coffee. He glanced over and his hand froze in place when he saw the incredibly beautiful woman coming down the stairs. His jaw dropped and coffee ran down his chin onto the desk. "Whaa…" He jumped and quickly mopped the coffee up with a handful of napkins, but he didn't take his eyes off the woman.

She was stunning. Her features were chiseled, and her full lips had only a hint of added color. Makeup could only detract from her perfect alabaster skin. Her eyes were like gemstones framed by her delicate black eyebrows. She was walking down the stairs next to Gibbs, and even he seemed distracted by her beauty.

"Wow," Abby said. "I would so totally do her."

Ziva nodded.

"Yeah," DiNozzo said, too distracted to even notice Abby's Sapphic comment.

Gibbs led the woman toward them. She was laughing as she tossed her raven colored hair over one shoulder as she rested a hand on Gibb's arm. If any other woman had tried the maneuver it would have looked false, but the woman was like a Greece Goddess- grace and beauty given human form.

"Wow," Abby said again, gripping Ziva's leg.

Ziva turned and caught Abby's attention. She raised an eyebrow as a hint of jealousy rose to the surface.

"Oh, come on," Abby said in a hushed whisper. "Tell me she's not freakin' hot."

Ziva nodded and looked up just as Gibbs and the Goddess came around the room divider.

DiNozzo rushed forward. "Anthony DiNozzo," he said as he extended his hand. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

The Goddess smiled warmly and took his hand. "You introduced yourself upstairs," she said with a kind chuckle. Even her laugh was sexy.

DiNozzo sighed like a giddy schoolgirl meeting all three Jonas brothers.

_'She's so freakin' sexy,'_ Abby thought.

' _Oh, this cannot be happening,'_ Ziva thought. She recognized the sultry voice.

Gibbs led the Goddess past McGee, who was focusing on not swallowing his tongue. Gibbs headed toward Ziva and Abby. "This is Abby Sciuto. She identified the explosive compound."

Abby suddenly got a very bad feeling.

"Thank you, so much," the Goddess said.

Abby's feeling got much worse when she recognized the woman's accent. She should; it was just like Ziva's.

Gibbs pointed to Ziva. "And this is…"

The Goddess cut Gibbs off, "Officer David." She moved forward and took Ziva's hand in both of hers. The Goddess gave Ziva a look that made DiNozzo want to be Ziva and made Abby want to grab Ziva and stake her claim. "So nice to meet you in person, Ziva," the Goddess said. Her eyes caressed Ziva like a lover.

Abby prayed her day couldn't possibly go any worse than it already had. Wasn't seeing Ziva kiss McGee, Mikel killed, and Wilbur nearly killed enough for one day? _'What, does God hate me?'_ she wondered.

"I am Miss Sadeh. Please, call me Anna," the Goddess said. She pointed toward Ziva's desk. "I see you got the flowers." She gave Ziva a smirk that promised long nights filled with passion.

_'Yep. God hates me,'_ Abby thought.

Ziva smiled, willing her expression to give off nothing other than polite, professional courtesy. "Nice to meet you," she said. She didn't have to look at Abby to know her lover was not happy.

"You're accent is lovely," Anna said. "It reminds me of home." She was still holding Ziva's hand.

"Thank you," Ziva said, as politely as possible. She took her hand back and gave Abby a look that clearly translated as _'this is not my fault.'_

"Miss Sadeh," Alon said as he suddenly appeared from around the corner. "The limo is waiting." He pointed impatiently toward the exit, pausing only long enough to shoot Ziva a glare.

Anna nodded politely and then gave Ziva a parting look. "Let me know if you've considered that dinner." Her tone and heated look made it clear that dinner was not all that was being offered. And then she was gone, like hurricane blowing out to sea, leaving without a second thought to the damage she left in her wake.

Abby was miserable. No one could feel worse than she currently did. She heard DiNozzo clear his throat and looked over at him.

"Ziva," DiNozzo said as rushed toward the former Mossad officer. "Keep your mitts off my wife."

"My mitts did nothing," Ziva told him, but her eyes went immediately to Abby.

"Knock it off," Gibbs said.

All eyes locked on Gibbs. He sounded less happy than Abby looked, and that was saying a lot.

"Homeland Security has some new intel. They think our bombers were part of a larger cell and their informant says they're ready to move." Gibbs sighed as he looked at DiNozzo.

DiNozzo was looking at Ziva like she just slept with his sister and shot his puppy.

"I did nothing," Ziva insisted as her eyes once again found Abby. _'This is not good,'_ Ziva thought.

"Ziva," Gibbs said sharply. "You're on loan to the IDF starting tomorrow. You're with them until we get these guys."

Ziva slumped into her chair. _'Just kill me, now,'_ she thought without bothering to look at Abby.

"David?" Gibbs asked. "You hear me?"

"Yes." Ziva lifted her head and nodded to Gibbs. She turned her head and smiled weakly at Abby.

Abby looked like she wanted to sleep with Ziva's sister and steal her puppy because this was still Abby, and Abby didn't kill puppies.

McGee looked from DiNozzo, to Ziva, to Abby, and promptly started to giggle. This was going in his next book.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Abby was in the stairwell pouting. There was no other word for it. She was sitting with her back against the wall and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was making herself angrier with each passing second. All she could picture was stupid Anna Sadeh and her stupid beautiful eyes and her stupid perfect figure and her stupid flowers on Ziva's stupid desk.

The door opened and Ziva came into the stairwell. She knew she would find Abby there because the lab was a crime scene and Abby wouldn't want to be there until it was thoroughly cleaned.

"What do you want?" Abby asked.

"Abby," Ziva said in a pleading tone. She knelt in front of her lover. "I did not do anything wrong."

"You said she was hot," Abby said without looking up.

"No," Ziva said. She stood and paced. She was beginning to lose her temper. " _You_ said she was hot and _I_ merely agreed."

"Exactly!" Abby said as if she was catching Ziva cheating.

"You said you would 'do her.' I did nothing," Ziva yelled.

"You're going to work with her starting tomorrow." Abby climbed to her feet so she could face Ziva.

"I was ordered to." Ziva's voice grew louder.

"She sent you flowers," Abby countered.

"Yes." Ziva spun and pinned Abby in her gaze. " _She_ sent _me_ flowers." Her eyes narrowed. "I did not send them to her." She tossed her hands in the air. "Ben zonah!" she cursed in Hebrew, then switched to French. "Je ne peux pas croire que ceci se produit. Dites-moi ce que j'ai fait mal?" She waved a hand at Abby. "Dites-moi."

"Yeah, sexy when we're in bed. Right now? Not so much," Abby said with more than little venom.

"I said, _'tell me what I have done wrong?_ '" Ziva explained, leaving off part of her yelled comments. " _Tell me,"_ Ziva demanded. She locked eyes with Abby and let out an angry puff of air. "You cannot."

"She's from Israel," Abby said lamely.

"So, _of_ _course_ I am going to sleep with her." Ziva opened the door and left Abby in the stairwell.

"Well… you can't just leave… we… we haven't made up yet." Abby stared at the door. Abby was used to yelling to get her feelings out and then calmly discussing things. That's what her family had always done growing up. Of course, her family 'yelled' in sign language, but they always made up as soon as they blew off some steam. Except Ziva hadn't waited for the calm part of the discussion. "Crap," Abby said as she went after Ziva.

Abby went to Ziva's desk and found it empty. She noticed the flowers were no longer on the desk. They were in the trashcan next to the desk. She turned to DiNozzo. "Where's Ziva?"

"The wife stealer went to the bathroom," DiNozzo said as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the flowers in the trashcan.

"Get over it, Tony," Abby said angrily. "It's not Ziva's fault some woman hits on her." She was doubly angry with him. His stupidity forced her to face her own childish reactions.

"But…" DiNozzo watched as Abby hurried toward the restroom.

"Tony, stop digging," McGee said. "For the love of God, stop digging."

DiNozzo looked at him with a confused expression.

"The hole you're standing in?" McGee said. "Stop digging yourself deeper into it."

Ziva was in the restroom. She slammed her hand into the wall and then sighed. She looked in the mirror and was shocked to see how much emotion was on her face. "I cannot do this," she told her reflection. She was a spy. She should push down any emotion. Emotion was weakness. Emotions got you hurt. They got you killed. Abby's distrust cut deeper than Ziva could have imagined. She felt a wave of fear wash over her, threatening to drown her.

"No," Ziva told her reflection. She took a deep breath and flipped the internal switch she had developed with years of undercover work. She felt the pain and every other emotion fade into nothingness. This was familiar. Logic. Survival. No emotion. This was safe. Now, with everything forced down where it should have never been released, she was ready to do the only thing she could think of to protect everyone. It would keep Abby safe. It would not hurt because Ziva now felt nothing. She grabbed the door and yanked it open, her mind made up.

"Ziva," Abby said with a startled squeak.

"Not now." Ziva moved around Abby.

"Yes, now." Abby followed after her.

Ziva stopped without turning. "This will not work," she said flatly. Her voice was devoid of emotion.

Abby's jaw went slack.

"My life is too full of intrigue, and people with agendas, and knives at my back." Ziva risked looking at Abby. "I cannot be with someone who does not trust me, who will not trust me."

"I do trust you," Abby insisted. She was stunned.

Sadness flashed over Ziva's features, but she clenched her jaw and the flicker of anguish was replaced with a terrifyingly cold, lifeless expression as she shoved the emotion that had briefly surfaced back into a box deep inside her mind. "We both know that is not true," said casually. She turned and left Abby momentarily unable to move.

The pain that had flashed over Ziva's face, pain Abby knew she'd put there, cut Abby deeply. The utter lack of emotion that had covered the pain scared Abby. "I want to apologize," Abby finally said.

Ziva froze and slowly turned. She was completely shut down. Her eyes were dead. "Too little, too late." She spun and walked away leaving a stunned Abby standing in the hall.

Gibbs was sitting down with a fresh cup of coffee when Ziva came to a stop in front of the desk.

"Gibbs?" she said gruffly.

"David," he replied. He looked at her. Something was off, missing.

"If there is nothing else, I need to take a personal day," Ziva said.

"Personal day?" His eyes scanned her. She was standing in obvious discomfort and the normally beautiful woman had lost her radiance. "Don't you mean a sick day?"

"I am not at my best," Ziva admitted. It was true. Her body ached and she felt raw, inside and out. "But I can serve if required."

"This isn't Mossad. We don't work our people into the ground," he paused and let his voice take on teasing tone. "Unless necessary." His eyes met hers and he was overcome with genuine concern, but not for the injuries. The spark he was accustomed to seeing in her dark eyes was gone. She looked like the stoic Mossad officer she had been when he first met her. "You should have Ducky look you over."

"I will be fine. I would like to go off duty," she stated. "I will report to the Embassy in the morning."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Still think Ducky should have a look."

"No, thank you." She turned and left, heading to the elevator. Once inside she took a deep breath, needing to clear her head. A plan formulated. When she reached the ground floor she didn't go to the parking lot, she went across the Navy Yard to the gym.

She changed into workout clothes she kept in a locker at the gym. She was trying to burn off some steam. She wasn't successful. An hour later, she was still giving a heavy-bag a severe beating.

Two Marines leaned against a wall in the gym and stared at Ziva. "She is hardcore," the shorter one said, pointing to her grey sweatshirt. Her shoulder had a growing spot of red. Blood was seeping through with the sweat.

The taller Marine nodded. "I spar with her sometimes." He watched as she proceeded to give the heavy-bag a series of kicks and punches that would make a professional cage fighter cry. "Not today," he said under his breath.

Ziva wasn't getting enough distraction from the workout. She yanked the white tape off of her fingers and tossed it into the trash and headed for the locker room. She left her street clothes in her locker. Instead, she tossed her badge, wallet, phone, and knife into a small waist pack. Next, she secured her Sig Sauer P228 snuggly into her paddle holster, and then tucked that onto the right side of the pack. She felt naked without the familiar weight at her hip. The final addition was her backup gun, a Smith & Wesson Model 60, which she strapped into place on her left ankle beneath her sweats. That was Ziva's version of traveling light.

She left the building and started jogging. She had to hone her focus to avoid limping from the pain in her thigh. As if to mock her, the sky opened up and rain began pouring from the clouds. She growled and continued toward her goal.

She went left on M Street and continued to Maine Avenue. She was beginning to feel her body protest rather loudly. She eventually reached the Arlington Memorial Bridge and continued on, relieved when she finally saw the gates of Arlington Cemetery. She was soaked, but the cold numbed her aching body and her emotions. She paused at the main gate when a young man came out from the guardhouse. His eyes widened in surprise. It was Ellison, a guard she knew from her frequent visits.

He'd seen Ziva at one grave on many occasions. Sometimes she would drink a toast to her lost friend. He'd had to explain that liquor wasn't technically allowed. They had compromised, and Ziva left a thermos of very expensive brandy in his gatehouse. She could toast her lost friend, just not using a liquor bottle. In exchange, she would also bring an occasional bottle of Jonathan Tishbi Reserve Brandy, an Israeli brandy distilled like cognac. Ellison had mentioned enjoying cognac, and Ziva was proud of the brandy her country produced.

Ellison liked Ziva. She was a quiet woman, but the few brief conversations they had shared revealed a witty, observant person who never forgot any detail he shared about his young family. He enjoyed their conversations as much as the Israeli brandy. Seeing Ziva's current state concerned him. She looked like the proverbial drowned rat. After closer scrutiny, he decided that the rat had been chewed up by a few cats before it succumbed to drowning, or perhaps succumbed to sharp force trauma. "Rough day?" he asked.

Ziva bent forward and leaned against one knee and nodded.

He brought the thermos out. "With this weather, bet you wish this was hot coffee," he said with a friendly smile.

She lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were vacant.

"Maybe not," he said as he handed it to her.

"Thank you." She took the thermos and walked through the quiet space. The brandy had been one of Jenny's favorites. Ziva needed to talk to Jenny and she couldn't do that completely sober. She wasn't one to drink to solve her problems, but after the day she'd had, it sounded almost reasonable. With the day she was facing in the morning, it seemed downright prudent.

Jenny was at the far end of the cemetery. Ziva liked the walk. She could see the tourist-filled area near JFK's Eternal Flame off in the distance if she wanted to look, but usually she stayed in the quiet areas and let the solemn emotion of the place ground her.

She came to a stop near the headstone she needed to see. Somehow the reality of Jenny's name etched in the cold stone always surprised her. Ziva always expected Jenny to step out of the shadows and hug her and say it was all a mistake, just some secret op. Ziva had to settle for a drink from the thermos and the memories it triggered of the time she worked with Jenny throughout Eastern Europe.

"Yes, I know I look like shit," Ziva told the headstone as she sat on the soggy grass. She sipped from the thermos and then poured a tiny bit of the amber liquid at the base of the stone. "Shalom," she whispered and then touched Jenny's name, feeling the carved letters with reverence. The brandy wasn't Jenny's absolute favorite. Ziva sipped the 1976 Coeur Dlion Calvados. Jenny's favorite was the 1970 vintage, but Ziva hadn't been able to find it the last time she restocked.

She reached up and felt her _Magen David_ _._ It was a gift from her mother, a fact she shared with very few. Her mother had gave it to her on her twelfth birthday and told her, _'No matter what your father tells you, Ziva, your heart is your greatest strength. Wear this shield over your heart and it will always be safe.'_ Her mother had been wrong. Ziva had allowed the gentle side of her heart to show, but the shield had not protected her.

"You were wrong, too," Ziva whispered to the headstone. "About Abby." Tears welled up and Ziva hated her own weakness. "She and I will not…" Ziva sighed and had another sip of the brandy. If she was going to have an afternoon of drunken self-indulgence, she should do it right. She took a long drink and the burning in her throat and belly felt good biting back the chill from the cold rain.

"Elle a brisé mon coeur, Jenny," she whispered in French. "She broke my heart," she said again, but in English.

* * *

Abby was in the autopsy bay. She had waited until Ducky finished with Mikel Mawher, not wanting to see him ever again. Now that Mawher was safely in a stainless steel drawer, she needed a place to be. She was pacing, going over her fight with Ziva and coming to the same conclusions every time. She royally screwed up by not trusting Ziva. Ziva royally screwed up by not accepting the apology. Now she just had to figure out how to fix it, because she was going to fix it.

"Abigail, do stop pacing," Ducky said.

"My lab is splattered in blood," she said as she spun and paced in the opposite direction. "I can't go pace there, so I need to pace here." She pivoted on one foot and went back the way she had just come.

"Why don't you go see Ziva?" he asked, thinking how happy that would make her.

Abby spun, her eyes shined with tears and her lip trembled. She spun and paced faster.

"Perhaps you could go over some lab findings?" Ducky suggested.

"I just started the PCR on the bacterial DNA this morning," Abby said. She sniffled. "There won't be enough to work with today."

"The culture in the incubator was waiting in case we needed another sample," Ducky said. "Dave sent out the DNA profile to the university last night before he left."

"Why didn't ' _Dave'_ just run it himself?" Abby asked in a catty tone.

"He had more trust in your ability," Ducky explained.

"Oh." Abby wasn't sure how to work a snide remark into the conversation since Dave was beginning to seem like a decent guy. At the very least, he wasn't the evil stinky maniac she had thought he was. She went to the computer, found the profile, then ran the sample against several university DNA banks. When the match came up, she really wished Wilbur was in the lab. "It is Antarctic."

"I beg your pardon?" Ducky asked. He stood and came over to the computer, intrigued.

"My _Kocuria rosea_ , is actually _Kocuria polaris,_ " Abby said. "Sure, they're 98 percent the same DNA, but this is definitely an Antarctic strain."

"Fascinating." Ducky read the computer screen with interest. "Did you know that _Kocuria rosea_ used to be classified as _Micrococcus roseus_?" he asked. "It's a fascinating story. They found unique properties that ended with a completely unique classification being created."

"I know," Abby said. "I told Wilbur all about it." She had, and poor Wilbur's eyes had glossed over during the details. "Ducky, this could be huge. This strain is rare."

"What's rare?" Gibbs asked as he came into the room and handed Abby a Caf-Pow fresh from the local mini-market.

"The bacteria," Abby said distractedly. "I'm running a search for anyone who's come from the Antarctic in the last month." She took the Caf-Pow but didn't drink it. She stared at it and thought about the box of Caf-Pow syrup that Ziva had given her. Ziva, who was impossibly sweet, despite her tough spy exterior. Ziva, who pretended to be impervious to any pain, but had a soft heart. Ziva, whose heart Abby had trampled. "I'm a terrible person, Gibbs."

"Because of the bacteria?" Gibbs asked.

Abby shook her head.

He almost groaned when he suddenly understood. "Did you really think Ziva was interested in Anna Sadeh?"

Abby did groan. "No." She put her Caf-Pow on the table. "But you saw Anna Sadeh. Tony and McGee were ready to have babies with her."

"Ziva is not Tony or McGee," Ducky pointed out, suddenly understanding Abby's melancholy.

"No, she's not," Gibbs agreed. He took Abby by the arm, waiting until she looked at him. "She'd never do anything to hurt you. Not if she could help it."

"Well, you're wrong about that, Jethro. She broke up with me," Abby whispered as she looked at the floor. "And technically, that hurt, a lot."

"Damn it, Abby. I gave Ziva the _talk_ ," Gibbs said pointedly. "The _talk_ , as in don't hurt my little girl or I will hurt you, talk." Gibbs sighed, truly hating talking about emotions. "And she _listened,_ like a good, proper suitor of a Marine's daughter."

"You think you scared her away?" Abby lifted her head.

"No," he said as he bent down and looked directly into Abby's eyes. "I think I should have had that talk with _you_ instead."

"Wha.. what?" Abby asked, clearly offended.

"We all seem to forget, that as tough as Ziva is, she's the youngest one here." Gibbs folded his muscular arms across his chest. "We love you, Abbs, but you're so happy-go-lucky we forget that you're strong. You've loved."

"Your point?" Abby asked. She was a little grouchy because she was realizing she had completed overlooked the fact that Ziva was several years younger and a whole lot less experienced when it came to being in love.

"You didn't trust her, Abby," Gibbs said angrily. "She is worthy of trust."

Ducky jumped into the conversation. "So not only have you suggested that she betrayed your trust, you've insulted her honor."

Gibbs sighed. He wasn't good with touchy feely discussions. He wasn't a talker at all. He resented that he was being forced to give advice. "You hurt her, Abby." His eyes narrowed. "You hurt her badly."

"You two are not helping." Abby sat at Ducky's desk and watched the screen hoping her latest query would find something and save her from the deserved dressing down.

Gibbs only knew one more way to make Abby understand. "Abbs, do you know what the most dangerous thing a person in Ziva's former line of work can ever face?"

"What?" Abby asked slowly.

"A partner they can't trust," Gibbs said. He waited a moment. "And the second most dangerous thing?" he asked her.

"What?" Abby asked, really not wanting to know.

"A partner who doesn't trust them." Gibbs met her eyes. " _Fix_ this."

The computer beeped.

Abby looked to it for her salvation. "I got something." She scanned the screen and frowned. "The only recent flight out of the Antarctic was a U.S. Air Force flight two weeks ago."

"What were they carrying?" Ducky asked.

"People," Abby said. "And cargo."

Gibbs leaned against the desk. "The Antarctic is a frozen block of ice. Other than penguins, there's nothing there. They don't have exports. What kind of cargo do you take from there?"

"Give me a minute." Abby typed rapidly, jumping from screen to screen. "There," she said and then she became confused again when she read the information. "Huh?"

"Huh?" Gibbs asked, wanting clarification.

"Wine, specifically, German Ice wine." Abby hit a few more keys. "The German science team brought six cases with them. Someone likes their ice wine."

"Then why was it on a cargo plane coming to DC?" Gibbs asked.

Abby read the screen, then as only she could, she read between the lines and typed a few more commands to find what she needed. "Seems like they sent two cases to DC as an official gift." She hit a few more keys. "They were picked up by a diplomatic courier." She turned and her eyes widened. "From the Israeli embassy."

Gibbs rubbed his forehead.

"That can't be a coincidence," Ducky said.

"No, it can't," Gibbs said. He pulled his _Blackberry_ out of his pocket and dialed. He spoke as soon as the line opened. "I need you back at NCIS, right now."

Ziva stared at the phone in her hand and laughed. "Gibbs, that is not going to happen," she said. She looked over at the empty thermos on the grass next to her.

"Look, Ziva, whatever else is going on, you have a job to do." Gibbs was worried. Ziva was not one to shirk her responsibilities.

Abby turned and stared in disbelief. Ziva never pushed off work.

"You do not understand," Ziva said into the phone. Her speech was slightly slurred. "I physically cannot report to duty." She cleared her throat. "I have been drinking. A lot. I probably should not even have a gun. Or a knife. Or any deadly weapon." She laughed, snorting. "Which includes my hands." She held out one hand and studied it, suddenly fascinated. "I can kill with my bare hands, did you know that?"

"I did," Gibbs said as he put his hand back to his forehead. "You're drunk." It wasn't a question. He didn't need a drunken, broken-hearted assassin roaming the city suddenly remembering her hands were deadly weapons.

Abby's eyes widened.

"Not drunk." Ziva made a clicking sound with her tongue. " _Very_ drunk. Drunk as a skank," Ziva said with the utmost seriousness. Then she laughed and leaned her forehead against the headstone and sighed, suddenly overcome with sadness. She rested her hand on the cold granite over Jenny's name. "il est vrai, mon ami, oui?"

"Is what true?" Gibbs understood French and knew that she had said, _'it is true, my friend, yes?'_ He saw Ducky's curious look. "She's speaking French," Gibbs told Ducky. "And apparently, drunk as a skank." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, dear," Ducky said. "She does tend to misplace her English under duress, doesn't she?" He rather enjoyed Ziva's missteps when trying to use slang. Under any other circumstances, using the word skank in place of skunk would have been quite humorous. The fact that Ziva was reverting to French meant her concentration must be nonexistent.

"Ziva, where are you?" Gibbs asked, thinking she may be in one of the many international bars in DC.

"Comment pourriez-vous me quitter?" Ziva asked. She traced her finger over the grooved lettering, finding the edges surprising sharp. "J'ai besoin de votre conseil." She sighed and then her voice cracked when she whispered, "elle a brisé mon Coeur, cher."

Gibbs translated in his mind but he didn't speak. She had said, _'how could you leave me?'_ and then _'I need your advice.'_ He could hear the emotion in Ziva's voice. She sounded impossibly young. Her last sentence brought that point home. Ziva had whispered, _'She broke my heart, cher.'_

"Where are you?" Gibbs asked gently, though he suspected he might now know.

"Avec Jenny," Ziva said.

He took a deep breath and sighed. "Wait there," Gibbs ordered. "I'll come get you."

"Oui," Ziva replied. "Nous attendrons."

Gibbs hung up and stared at his phone. "She's with Jenny." He sighed again and walked out of the room without acknowledging the others. Ziva was with Jenny. She had also said _'we will wait,'_ but he didn't share that.

If Abby looked concerned before, now she looked terrified. She watched Gibbs leave and then turned to Ducky needing comfort.

"Start with an apology," Ducky suggested. "Then you can yell at her for running off instead of staying to talk things through."

Abby nodded.

Ducky let out a deep breath. "And I shall have a word with her about drinking in lieu of dealing with one's feelings."

Gibbs took the elevator to the parking structure, thinking about Jenny and Ziva as the floors passed by. He had spent time with Jenny as well. Just like Ziva, Gibbs always said _'with Jenny,'_ and never _'at Jenny's grave.'_ There had been a few nights when he sat _with Jenny_ and drank more than he should have. "Damn it, David," he whispered. "When did you turn into such a romantic?"

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

It stopped raining as Gibbs exited the NCIS building. He left orders for DiNozzo to chase down the new lead. He didn't plan on being gone long.

He parked his car at the gate closest to where he knew Ziva was waiting, with Jenny. He pulled his overcoat tightly against his chest to keep the wind off his body and waved his badge at the guard at the back gate.

He made his way through the dark cemetery. He liked the quiet of cemeteries, but could never get past the feelings that arose. He didn't understand why he was alive while so many other good soldiers were not. They were lined up in their last formation, the headstones permanently standing at attention, like a macabre stone army forever waiting to deploy.

He rounded a tall hedge and expected to have Ziva meet him. She was impossible to surprise. Even when he'd seen her after a few drinks in the past, she had the whip fast reflexes that every old spy shared. Spies with slow reflexes never became old spies. Figuring that she was still at the graveside, he made his way to the back rows. What he saw sent a rush of hot adrenaline through his blood.

He had his weapon out in an instant and crouched low as he rushed toward Ziva. Her bloodied body was splayed out on her side, motionless in front of Jenny's headstone. He dropped to the ground beside her and touched two fingers to her icy throat. He could smell the blood covering her shirt and her body was soaked from the rain. For a few seconds he thought he was too late, but then he felt her pulse.

"What are you doing, Gibbs?" she asked grumpily.

He pulled her shoulder, rolling her over.

"Hey!" She sat up and clumsily slapped his hand away.

"Are you hit?" he asked, obviously confused. He ran a hand over her shirt.

Ziva swatted at his hand, but the move threw her off balance and she fell over onto one elbow.

"Are you hit?" he asked again, growing angry as he began to get the real picture.

"No," she said, clearly pissed off. "Stop pocking me."

"Poking," Gibbs corrected. He leaned closer and could see that all of the blood was from previous wounds she had reopened. He stood and grabbed her arm. "Up." He yanked her to her feet.

She staggered, unsteady on her feet. When she looked at him, her lip quivered and her eyes filled with emotion.

"No," he said sternly. "You don't get to make me think you've been murdered and then cry." He headed toward his car dragging her alongside him.

Ziva spun out of his grip and looked into the darkness behind them. She reached for the gun on her right hip. "Who was murdered?"

Gibbs grabbed her hand. "You," he said. "In about three seconds if you don't hurry up," he added in a hiss.

Ziva pulled them both to stop. "She does not trust me, Gibbs," she said. Her tone was defeated.

"She's Abby," Gibbs pointed out. "You've seen how she gets when someone else uses her lab," he reminded Ziva.

"Yes," Ziva said slowly, dipping her head in tilting nod. "She is exceptionally possessive," she said, slurring her words and waving a finger toward him to emphasize the point.

"Exactly," Gibbs said. He led her through the cemetery, steadying her when she began to limp.

"I would not have cheated," Ziva said. "Ever." She yanked her arm out of his grasp and stumbled in a swaying spin.

Gibbs shot his hand out and recaptured her, barely keeping her upright. "No, you'd just abandon her," he said.

"I cannot build a life without trust." Ziva stopped and stared down at her feet.

"She doesn't think you'd cheat," Gibbs said. "Hey," he said as he lifted her chin. She was cold to the touch. "You know _why_ Abby hates anyone else in her lab?"

Ziva shook her head. The hair dark matted to the sides of her face made her look like a lost little girl.

"She's afraid we're all gonna like the new person better," Gibbs said. "Even though she knows it would never happen, that she's our family, some part of her is afraid of losing the people she loves."

Even drunk, Ziva could draw the parallels with Abby's reaction to Anna Sadeh. "And I walked away."

"Remember when you gave me your badge and gun?" he asked. It had been a bad time for them both, but ended well. Gibbs had refused to accept Ziva's resignation.

"Are you asking for them now?" Ziva asked. She sounded almost sober, but was swaying off to the left.

"No, you idiot," Gibbs said. "This is the same thing. The next time you hand Abby her heart back, you better be prepared to lose it." He pulled out his _Blackberry_ and dialed. "Abby? You. Ziva's apartment. Now. Fix this."

Ziva stared wide-eyed.

He turned to her. "Fix this, David, or I will deport you." He wrapped an arm around her and dragged her to his car.

* * *

Abby arrived at Ziva's apartment first. She'd seen Ziva drink a few times after work. The beautiful Israeli woman always held her liquor well, knowing her limits and staying within them. Abby hurried around the apartment, putting on a pot of Ziva's favorite coffee, a dark roast from East Africa. Abby joked that Ziva liked it because the coffee was almost as exotic as the young spy. Ziva explained it was because Jenny had introduced her to it. The two agents shared it on many occasions in Eastern Europe.

A knock at the door broke Abby out of her thoughts. She checked to make sure it was Gibbs, seeing him peering back through the peephole. She wasn't sure what she expected to find when she opened the door, but it was certainly not the sight that met her. Gibbs cradled Ziva in his arms, carrying her. Ziva's eyes were closed. She might have looked like a cute little girl, the way she was snuggled against his jacket, except she was drenched to the bone with her clothes sticking to every inch. Her hair looked like she had been camping in the woods without a tent or any other shelter, during a monsoon.

"I know," Gibbs said quietly as he carried Ziva inside. "She looks like something the cat dragged in."

"Uh, no. She looks like something the cat coughed up," Abby said. She turned and watched him place Ziva onto the sofa. It was only then Abby could see that Ziva must have torn out some of her stitches.

Ziva inhaled and then sat up on the sofa and rubbed her face awkwardly with the back of hand one. She lifted her head and froze when she saw Abby. Seeing her lover had a sobering effect as adrenaline rushed through her system. Pain and hope flickered over her features. Pain won out. She stood unsteadily and started toward the hall.

"David," Gibbs said sharply.

Ziva stopped mid-stride and the slowly turned.

Gibbs met her eyes. "Never thought of you as a coward."

Fire flashed behind Ziva's brown eyes.

"That fatherly chat I had with you?" Gibbs asked. He nodded toward Abby. "Had the same one with her." He pinned Ziva in place with his eyes. "I don't _do_ sensitive chats. Figure this out because I am not having that talk again with anyone else. Ever." He turned and went to the front door.

Abby followed him, pausing at the door. "Thanks, Gibbs," she whispered.

"Fix this or figure out how to work together," he said. "We've got an international incident waiting to explode. That could be literally." He went into the hall and quickly left.

Abby bolted the door closed and turned towards Ziva. She studied her lover. Ziva was standing with her head tilted to one side, soaking wet and looking much worse for the wear. The pain and the emotion in her eyes, so close to the surface, made her look years younger. "Me first," Abby said and she walked toward Ziva with her purpose set.

Ziva nodded and a bit of the pain in her eyes was replaced by hopefulness.

"I am possessive of the things I love. Like my lab, my lab equipment, my Gibbs, my Tony, my Ducky, my Timmy, and _especially_ my Ziva." She crossed both arms over her chest and stood in front of Ziva.

The corner of Ziva's lip lifted as she remembered the many times Abby had lost her temper when someone touched anything in the lab.

"It's my lab," Abby said possessively. "And I love my team, they're my family."

Ziva nodded, she felt the same way about the team.

"But I'm _in_ _love_ with you," Abby said as she stepped into Ziva's personal space. "So imagine how wacky it made me when that Israeli supermodel zeroed in on you like a heat-seeking missile."

"I would never…" Ziva began.

"I know." Abby put her hands onto Ziva's shoulders and was surprised how cold the soaked fabric was. "It's not about you." She stared down into Ziva's eyes wishing she could undo the pain there, pain Abby knew she had caused. "It's about me, my insecurities, my fears. I never doubted you. I trust you completely. I just needed to blow off some steam."

Ziva took a deep breath and sighed, letting her head drop forward. "I should probably be sober for this talk."

"Then I'll tell you again when you are." Abby lifted Ziva's chin. Her hand trembled at the touch. "And I'll keep telling you as many times as you need to hear it."

Ziva allowed a tiny, lopsided smile.

"You need to trust me, too," Abby said. "Trust that no matter how ridiculous I get, no matter how many tantrums I have when women throw themselves at you, I always know in my heart you won't stray."

Ziva sighed in frustration. "Then why…"

"Because I can safely get angry at you," Abby said. "I know it's messed up." Abby tossed her hands into the air. "I can get mad at you and I know it's just me being all blustery. If I blew up at that Israeli supermodel, I would probably end up getting arrested."

Ziva laughed softly. "I would not be able to post bail."

"What?" Abby said, her voice full of false outrage.

Ziva's eyes sought out Abby's. "I would be in the cell next to you." She pointed with one finger, her hand unsteady. "But I would break us out."

Abby smiled brightly. She rested a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "You're freezing. Let's get you out of these clothes and into a hot shower."

Ziva nodded and slumped against her lover.

"Are we okay?" Abby asked tentatively.

"We will be." Ziva leaned up and placed a kiss on Abby's throat. "After that shower and then bed." She yawned.

"We got a break on the case," Abby said as she led her lover down the hall.

Ziva stopped and looked up at Abby.

"Some trace evidence off bomber guy's hand," Abby said. She tugged Ziva to get her moving toward the bathroom. "It links bomber guy to the Israeli embassy."

Ziva rubbed her eyes with both palms. She dropped her hands and sighed. "I have to go to work."

"Yeah, what we need is a drunk Spy Queen waving her gun around." Abby opened the bathroom door. "In," she ordered.

Ziva cleared her throat. "There is a metal box in the closet in my bedroom," she said. "Could you bring it to me?"

"Okay… shouldn't you shower first? Abby asked.

Ziva shook her head. She sat on the closed toilet and kicked off her shoes and dropped her waist pack and gun to the floor with a thump. She yanked off her wet sweatpants with some effort. The cuff of the left leg hung up on her backup gun. When Abby returned, she found Ziva staring down at the pile of weapons.

"Hey?" Abby whispered.

Ziva slowly lifted her head and noticed the box in Abby's hands. She reached out, took it, and placed it beside the sink and opened it. "Thank you, she said quietly.

"What is that?" Abby thought at first glance it was a first aid kit, but the items inside looked more like Dr. Frankenstein's surgical kit.

"Trauma and poisoning kit," Ziva said. She moved a smaller box inside out of the way and removed a syringe.

"Whoa!" Abby grabbed her lover's wrist. "What is that?"

"A compound that does not officially exist." Ziva eyed the back of her hand, about to inject the medication directly into the vein. "It will immediately counteract the alcohol."

"No. Hell no." Abby carefully took the syringe from her lover, despite the dirty look the move earned her. "An unofficial, nonexistent, and probably dangerous compound? I don't think so. There's no way you're taking some untested mystery drug."

"Abby, Gibbs needs me," Ziva said. The vehemence in her tone was dampened by the fact that she was shivering uncontrollably and tilting to one side like a ship taking on water.

"Hmmp." Abby reached into her own pocket and produced a cell phone. She hit the speed dial and waited. "Is there is anything to go on yet?" She listened, raising both eyebrows at her lover. "The Spy Queen has some nasty Mossad drug that will apparently sober her up…" She smiled as she pulled the phone away from her ear. Gibbs' voice was raised to his loudest, angriest yell. Finally, Abby put her ear back to the phone. "So you don't need her tonight?" She listened, clearly happy with what he was saying. "That's all I needed to hear."

Ziva looked to Abby expectantly.

Abby smiled triumphantly. "Gibbs says there's no way in hell you're taking that crap." She pointed at the syringe. "Says he knows all about it and… Well, let's just say, daddy Gibbs is not happy."

"The case…" Ziva began.

"Will be fine without you," Abby said. "Gibbs told me they're at a dead end tonight. The guy they need to talk to is halfway to Europe right now. Gibbs is sending someone from a base in Europe to interview the guy when he lands at Heathrow." She looked from Ziva to the shower. "Now, you're getting into a hot shower before I have to de-ice your ears."

Ziva sighed. "Are you always this bossy?"

"Yes, now get the rest of those clothes off." Abby pointed at the drenched sweatshirt. "And then we'll talk about you strolling through DC soaking wet, drunk, and better armed than most small countries… while trying to get over being blown up. "

Ziva undressed, aware of Abby's eyes on her. Her sweatshirt stuck to her skin, and in her less than sober state, she ended up trapped with her head inside the shirt, spinning in a circle trying to flap her arm free. She felt Abby's warm hand on her waist and then Abby guided the offending article of clothing over her head.

"Thank you," Ziva whispered.

Abby leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. "You're welcome, darlin'. Let's just not make a habit of getting drunk in a downpour."

Ziva nodded and looked down at the floor as Abby helped her take off her wet undergarments.

"You were with Jenny?" Abby asked as she adjusted the shower temperature.

Ziva nodded and let out a forlorn sigh. "I miss her," her voice cracked.

"I know you do," Abby said. She pulled Ziva to her chest and held her. "We all do."

Ziva nodded, embarrassed as a few tears fell. She pulled away and climbed into the shower and let the hot water pour over her face. After a brief moment she felt Abby's naked body against her back.

"It's the Sciuto buddy system. No showering alone after drinking," Abby said reasonably. She held her hands at Ziva's waist.

Ziva smiled and leaned back against her lover, relaxing into the supportive embrace. In the morning, she'd have to report to the Israeli embassy, but she would cross that unpleasant bridge then. For now, she needed the love Abby offered.

* * *

Abby awoke to the sound of a ringing cell phone. That was irritating enough, but the fact that it was only four a.m. added another level of aggravation to the situation. She squeezed Ziva closer when the younger woman sat up to answer it. "Let it ring," Abby grumbled.

"I cannot," Ziva said sleepily. She tried to pull away.

"Throw it at the wall," Abby suggested without opening her eyes and not releasing her grip.

Ziva smiled despite the fact that she had a pounding headache. She rolled toward Abby and kissed her forehead as the phone continued to ring. "It could be important."

Abby nodded. "Fine, save the world. See if I care." She snuggled closer so her arm was tossed across Ziva's lap and her face was half-buried by the blankets. "Stupid world," she whispered grumpily.

"David," Ziva said into the receiver. She let out a sigh and wrapped her hand around Abby's wrist. "Good morning, Miss Sadeh."

Abby's eyes opened and she looked up in the near darkness of the room. Even with only the dim light of the clock radio, she could see that Ziva's expression was not pleased.

Ziva hit the speaker button and put the phone closer to Abby. "Yes, I am familiar with diplomatic attire." Ziva reached over and turned on a lamp.

Anna Sadeh's voice was husky even over the tinny sounding speaker. "I know this is short notice, and I wanted to extend an offer." She sounded politely generous, but there was more than a hint of interest in her tone. "We have several designers who routinely offer clothing to the embassy. I am certain we have many lovely dresses that would fit you. You're about a size five, yes?"

"I assure you, I will arrive dressed appropriately." Ziva listened politely, but she looked like her headache was getting worse.

"Of that I have no doubt." Anna laughed richly. "I just thought you might enjoy wearing a nice Vera Wang gown."

"No. That will not be necessary." Ziva gave Abby an apologetic look.

Abby sat up beside her lover and squeezed her hand, making it clear she wasn't getting jealous.

"It would be my pleasure," Anna said. "Consider it a gift for the help you provided at the bombing site."

"I was merely doing my job." Ziva's voice was perfectly polite, but Abby could see the crinkling at the edges of Ziva's eyes that signaled her growing frustration. "Miss Sadeh?" Ziva cut off the conversation, clearly losing her temper. "Why are we having this discussion at four a.m.?"

"I'm sorry. I thought Agent Gibbs informed you that we meet at five a.m. to prepare for breakfast events." Anna sounded genuinely confused.

"No, he did not," Ziva said. "What time is the first event today?" She lifted Abby's hand and kissed it.

"We have a brunch at eleven a.m.," Anna said.

"Then I will meet with your security team at nine a.m.," Ziva said firmly.

"Alright," Anna said. There was a hesitation. "I had hoped to spend some time getting to know you."

Abby crossed her arms over her chest.

"I do appreciate the offer," Ziva said. "May I be blunt?"

"Please do," Anna said. "I love a woman who takes charge."

"I am getting signals that you would like to explore a personal relationship." Ziva took a breath.

"I'm glad my signals are getting through," Anna said with a laugh.

"I am in a committed partnership," Ziva said.

"Ah, well, this is awkward." Anna laughed, though she didn't sound the slightest bit uncomfortable. "Your father didn't mention that fact."

"My father?" Ziva's voice cracked.

"I spoke to him after you and I talked the other night," Anna admitted. "He and my father worked together for years. My father has been trying to get you and I to meet. He's seen your photo many times and they both thought we would be a good match."

Ziva knew her father was aware she had dated men and women, but she didn't like the idea of him playing matchmaker. Generally, he planned her romantic interactions as strategic political moves. "I see," Ziva said slowly. If Ziva's father was setting her up with a woman, Anna's father must have serious political clout. "As flattering as that is, I am completely happy with my lover." She smiled warmly at Abby.

"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable," Anna said, and she sounded sincere. "Do you mind if I ask a question about one of your coworkers? I noticed a bit of a jealous reaction when I chose to speak to you yesterday. Perhaps your coworker would be interested…"

"I am certain Agent DiNozzo would love to take you out," Ziva said.

Abby snickered, covering her mouth to keep the sound from reaching the phone.

"Oh, not him." Anna's laugh made it clear that DiNozzo didn't interested her in the slightest. "I was thinking of that exceptionally beautiful and exotic laboratory technician, Miss Sciuto," Anna said. "I thought I saw some sparks while I was talking to you."

"That you did," Ziva said with a smile.

Abby's jaw dropped.

"Excellent," Anna said.

Ziva chuckled, but not unkindly. "I can safely say Abby is not interested, but if you would like to ask her yourself, I will hand her the phone."

There was a silent pause and then Anna laughed richly. "I take it she is in bed next to you?"

"Yes," Ziva said. She leaned over and pressed a silent kiss to Abby's temple.

"Give her my best," Anna said. "I will see you at nine a.m., until then." She laughed again, obviously at her own expense. "You are a lucky woman, Officer David."

"I know," Ziva said.

The line went dead.

"This is going to kill Tony," Ziva said. She tossed her phone onto the nightstand.

Abby was laughing so hard she had to lean forward to avoid coughing. "Please let me be the one to tell him!"

"And will we tell him that you were naked in bed next to me when the call came?" Ziva rolled over and guided Abby to a reclining position.

"Hell no," Abby said with a laugh. "You know, Miss Sadeh probably wanted to make you wear some skimpy dress that barely covers your breasts and doesn't even reach your thighs."

Ziva kissed Abby. She took her time, allowing them to reconnect after the previous day's difficulties. She eased back and mirth filled her dark eyes. "What makes you think that description does not match the dress I have picked out?"

"Well, that's easy." Abby reached up and ran her fingers along Ziva's cheek. "Nowhere to put your gun."

Ziva let out a bark of laughter. "I love you," she said as she continued laughing.

Abby went completely still, contemplating her lover.

Ziva looked down and her expression gentled. She shifted her weight so she was resting with her elbows on each side of Abby's shoulders. She used her hands to cradle Abby's face. "I do," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I love you, Abby."

"I love you, too." Abby smiled and her eyes locked with Ziva's. "Very much." She threaded her fingers through Ziva's hair and guided her down for a gentle kiss that quickly escalated into a more demanding, heated exchange.

They broke the kiss for a few breaths, each woman feeling the electricity between them.

"Now that you've outed us to your homeland embassy, shouldn't you be making love to your girlfriend?" Abby asked with a cheeky grin.

Ziva nodded. She planned to do just that. Suddenly her headache was no longer important.

"Well, snap to it, woman. Hurry up," Abby said playfully.

Ziva leaned down and waited until her lips brushed above Abby's. "I will not hurry," she said. "I am going to take my time." She let her tongue snake out and wet Abby's lips. "When we are finished, I do not want you thinking about anything for the rest of the day except the feel of me loving you."

Abby groaned and then lifted her head so she could reach Ziva's lips for a proper kiss. She settled back onto the bed as Ziva began kissing her neck and throat.

"No matter where I am today, my heart is here, with you." Ziva's hand moved across Abby's belly, her fingers tracing a delicate pattern. "And no matter what I am doing…" She moved her kisses closer to Abby's ear. "What I want to be doing is making love to you," she said as her fingers moved lower to find Abby's body willing and eager to be touched.

Abby sighed. "Kiss me," she asked.

Ziva's lips curled up at the edges and she did as her lover asked, pouring every bit of devotion into the contact.


	5. Close Protection Officer 17-20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Ziva entered the embassy and quickly checked in with the guards. She was wearing a black designer suit. The jacket covered a black covert body armor vest and beneath that, a white dress shirt. Her hair was in her traditional French braid. The look made a statement. Ziva had a job to do and nothing would get in her way. The bruises on her face were beginning to fade and the cuts were healing as well. Still, they gave her a dangerous look, putting a dark edge just under the surface of her exotic beauty, like the razor sharp fangs of a purring leopard. A guard led Ziva to a small room, and as she entered, she saw a group of men going over a set of blueprints for a hotel.

Anna Sadeh was at one end of the table. She met Ziva several paces from the table. "Officer David, you look lovely," she said low enough so only Ziva could hear her. There was a twinkle in her green eyes.

"It is not Vera Wang, but I can conceal my weapon and tackle anyone who does not belong," Ziva said with a genuine smile.

"Did Miss Sciuto get to work alright?" Anna said under her breath.

"Yes," Ziva replied. She had to fight the urge to smile at the mention of Abby's name.

Anna gave a brief nod and turned to the men at the table. "Gentlemen, this is Officer David with NCIS. She will be assisting with security for the luncheon."

A tall man in his late forties turned and came toward Ziva. "Why would I allow an American Naval officer to join my security team?" he asked.

"Ambassador Lavi, she is not an American." Anna moved smoothly to the man's side and took his arm. "Officer David is on loan to NCIS from our own Mossad."

His eyes widened and his gaze appraised Ziva with a bit more scrutiny. "Mossad?" He stepped closer and looked her up and down. "Acceptable."

Ziva smirked. "Acceptable or not, Ambassador, I am on your detail."

"Of course," he said, realizing he had probably insulted a woman quite capable of slitting his throat with a butter knife. "I am sure you would like to see the building layout?"

"Of course," Ziva said. "I am surprised to see the protectee working on the protection details."

"I like to know what is going on," he said honestly. "There is quite some concern because the building doesn't have an awning. With terrorists striking at the park, we believe they may try another bold move."

Ziva moved to the table and her eyes darted across the plans. She nodded at one end of the blueprint of an upscale hotel in downtown DC. "We should bring you in through the parking structure on the fourteenth floor." She tapped the spot on the building plans. "This service elevator goes directly to the kitchen. We can lock out access with the master service elevator key and post guards on each floor to prevent tampering and to cover the elevator doors."

All the heads at the table turned toward her and then they all looked at the plans.

The Ambassador cleared his throat and let out a tiny chuckle. "And that, gentlemen, is what having a Mossad officer in the room can do."

The men around the table nodded. A muscular man at the far end of the table met Ziva's eyes. "I am Namir Har-El, the Ambassador's security chief."

Ziva nodded. "I am sure you were considering this route," she said politely, knowing he hadn't.

"It was one of several possible solutions," Har-El said. He shrugged noncommittally and his eyes briefly met Ziva's to acknowledge the fact that she had tried to avoid embarrassing him. "The Americans have requested that you stay with the Ambassador, at his side as it were."

"Is that acceptable?" Ziva asked. She was being diplomatic, since she was going to do just that no matter what his response was.

"Of course," Har-El said. He knew the situation. He had no real choice, but he appreciated her letting him save face. "Now, I believe your NCIS is going to be at the event as well. Let me go over the areas we need to address."

Ziva nodded and moved forward. The others dropped back as the two security experts went through the plans looking for any possible threats.

* * *

Abby stared at her computer screen and bit her lip. She had no results pending. That was a bad thing. She had been out of her lab because it was a crime scene. Everything in the lab been logged and cleaned, which took quite a while. Abby had assumed there would be work piled up waiting for her, but no. By some cosmic joke, the NCIS crime lab had nothing pending. That meant Abby had nothing to do other than to think about the beautiful NCIS officer who was currently assigned to the Israeli embassy. Abby sighed and turned to stare at two phones. She had her cell phone sitting on the counter next to the lab phone, so that either could be easily accessed in one quick grab.

"Why haven't you called?" Abby asked the phones on her desk. Logically, she knew Ziva was busy. Logically, she knew Ziva couldn't just excuse herself from the diplomats and call her girlfriend. Logically, Abby Sciuto knew these things. Emotionally? Not so much.

"It's almost four o'clock," Abby said to the phones. "Normal people go home at five. That gives you one hour to call and ask about my day like a good girlfriend." She stood and paced, taking the time to go over and turn off her loud music. "A good girlfriend would call to see if I'm having a bad day." Even the pounding beat couldn't distract her today. "Ring!" she ordered the cell phone. That was the phone she expected Ziva to call.

"You okay, Abby?" DiNozzo asked as he came into the room.

"Do I look okay?" Abby asked as she spun and faced him. Her pigtails were gone, leaving her hair hanging down looking a bit too… normal.

"You missing McGee?" DiNozzo asked. "I brought a little something to distract you." He smiled and dangled an evidence bag in front of her.

"Yeah, McGee," Abby said. She didn't want DiNozzo to figure out about her relationship with Ziva, knowing he'd make a huge issue out of it. Gibbs had made it clear; keep it out of the job.

"Well, at least McGee gets to work on something exciting," DiNozzo said. "I'm stuck investigating a freakin' petty theft."

"Why are they sending out a senior agent on a petty theft?" Abby asked as she grabbed the evidence bag.

"Well, it's a grand theft," DiNozzo admitted. "By a chief petty officer. Our guy has been rerouting ammunition to his own storage unit, and lots of it."

"So you mean it's a chief petty theft." Abby cracked a small smile.

"Yep," DiNozzo said with a sigh. "Gibbs wants to make sure the petty officer isn't selling it to some terrorist organization, but I don't think he is."

"And why is that?" Abby put the evidence bag on the lab table. She studied the military issue ammunition. "What we have here are 55grain, M193 standard issue bullets." Abby pulled on a pair of latex gloves and opened the bag and scanned the contents, then frowned. The bag was full of copper tipped ammunition, but there were a few green tipped ones mixed in as well. "That does not belong in there."

"Whatcha got?" DiNozzo asked, more out of boredom than genuine interest. He was convinced the chief petty officer was a run of the mill thief and not a terrorist.

"Green tips," Abby said as she lifted out one of the bullets. "These are 62grain, M855 bullets, and while they are all full metal jacket boat tails, these green puppies are longer and heavier. When you fire them from an M16, they aren't nearly as stabile as the M193."

"Fascinating." DiNozzo yawned.

"You should be a bit more concerned. How do you know the chief petty officer isn't supplying terrorists?" Abby asked.

"Craig's list," DiNozzo said in a lazy drawl. "He's been selling the stuff on Craig's list, at a flat rate for about eight months." He pointed at the ammunition. "I don't think terrorists would be broadcasting."

"That doesn't mean terrorists didn't buy them from him online," Abby said triumphantly. "Even if the petty officer didn't know it."

DiNozzo scowled, a concerned look covering his features. "Didn't think of that," he admitted. He sighed. "Oh, crap." He sighed again. "Now I have to get McGeek to do his computer mojo. I just know he's gonna get all uppity. It's bad enough that he gets to be Ziva's backup on the embassy gig."

"You could ask me," Abby suggested.

"Sweet," DiNozzo said. "But don't you have other stuff?" He looked around the empty lab, glad to see that every trace of blood from Mawher's head was gone.

"Today has been painfully slow," Abby said. "Now, run get me a Caf-Pow. And a candy bar. No nougat!" She smiled brightly. "I have work to do."

"Yes, ma'am," DiNozzo said as he hurried out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Abby's cell phone rang.

"Finally!" Abby squealed and pounced on the phone. She saw Ziva's photo on the caller ID screen and answered. "You better not have been blown up."

Ziva laughed, rich and deep. "No, mon Chaton, it has been a boring day."

"Good." Abby twirled her hair with one finger. "I like boring. Boring is safe, and I like my Ziva safe."

"I miss you," Ziva said with a forlorn sigh.

"Then get your cute little butt over here," Abby suggested.

"My kitten, I cannot." There was disappointment and sadness in Ziva's voice.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked as a bolt of fear shot through her body like an electric shock.

"Ugh." Ziva groaned. "I am at the embassy. We just returned from the Four Seasons. And apparently, the Ritz Carlton is next."

"It must be horrible visiting those pits." Abby's voice was laced with sarcasm. "So, should I keep dinner warm for you, or are you going to be too full of five star yumminess?"

"It is going to be a long night," Ziva said regretfully. "Maybe you should head to your place?"

"Oh," Abby's disappointment was obvious. "Yeah, sure. It'll be good to be in my own space. Sure. Yeah. And clothes. I need clothes." She began to babble.

"Chaton," Ziva whispered warmly. "I want you to go home and wait for me."

"You'll come over?" Abby asked. The news and the use of the pet name reassured Abby. Her remaining tension from the misunderstanding the day before evaporated.

"It will be late when I finish here. I will let myself in and join you as soon as I can." Ziva leaned her shoulder against a wall in a hallway at the embassy.

"You don't have a key, yet," Abby said. She leaned one hip against the table, unknowingly mirroring her lover's stance. She bit her lip.

Ziva laughed. "Abigail, do you really think I need a key?"

"Oh." Abby chuckled. "I guess not." She sighed, not wanting to hang up, but sensing that Ziva needed to get back to work. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Ziva said. She smiled like a teenager talking to her first crush. "It is nice to be missed."

"Hurry home to me," Abby said. She was grinning as well.

"I have to go," Ziva said when she saw McGee coming toward her. "Je t'aime, Chaton."

"I love you, too," Abby hung up and sighed, then flipped her music on to its highest volume. She turned to the ammunition and decided to run every test possible. She was suddenly in no hurry to go home.

* * *

Abby was almost asleep when she heard the latch on her front door click. She sat up in her coffin bed and looked toward the door. "Ziva?" she called out, suddenly hoping that it was indeed her lover breaking in and not some criminal.

"Abby?" Ziva called back in a whisper. She opened the door and crept into the room. "What are you doing up?" she whispered gently. "It is after two a.m. and you should be asleep."

Abby flicked on a light. "I was worried," she admitted.

Ziva's eyes widened, despite the glaring light.

Abby was sitting up in an actual coffin wearing a long sleeved sleeping gown that looked like it should belong to one of Abby's nun friends. A cap that looked like it was stolen from Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother completed the outfit. It covered her head with only her pigtails protruding.

"What?" Abby looked around and then down at her outfit. "Oh." She blushed. "Yes, well, I wanted to be comfy and since you weren't here…"

"You look adorable," Ziva promised her lover. She glanced around the room and then sat on a chair against the wall and removed her shoes. "A little overdressed, but adorable."

Abby smiled wickedly and wiggled her gown up and off her body, tossing it onto the floor. The cap followed. "Better?" she asked.

"Much." Ziva's eyes raked up and down exposed skin with undisguised hunger. She stood and dropped her clothes to the floor in a pile and went to the side of the coffin and then paused, not exactly sure how to get into the coffin, and quite frankly, a little uncertain if she wanted to. She was afraid it might trigger memories best left buried.

"Climb on in," Abby said as she held open the blankets.

Ziva's hesitation disappeared when she took in the sight of Abby's body under the blankets.

After they were settled in next to each other and the lights were off, their hands roamed with familiar intent. Ziva's injuries weren't completed healed yet, and now she had muscle spasms as well. Abby paused her exploring to massage the stiff muscles.

"Tough day?" Abby asked when she felt knots at the back of Ziva's neck.

"Stressful," Ziva admitted, pausing with her lips at the base of Abby's throat. She sighed and then yawned as Abby's fingers loosened the knots.

"You need sleep," Abby said quietly. She intercepted Ziva's roaming hand as it was about to reach her breast.

"I have missed you," Ziva said. She inhaled Abby's scent and kissed the skin under her ear.

"Me too," Abby agreed. "But you have to be back at the embassy in a few hours." She moaned when Ziva's hand managed to wrap around her breast. "God, that feels good."

"Then why are you trying to stop me?" Ziva asked coyly.

"Because I want you alert tomorrow so nothing happens to you," Abby said seriously.

Ziva sighed and rested her cheek on Abby's chest. She let out a frustrated growl. "You are right," she said in grumpy tone.

Abby laughed and ran her hand down her lover's body, pleased that the wounds on her back had healed enough so that Ziva didn't flinch. She kissed Ziva's forehead in the darkness. "Get some sleep, darlin'. We'll have plenty of nights to make love."

Ziva nodded and snuggled closer. She straightened her legs and frowned when her calves hit the side of the coffin. The confined space did nothing to help Ziva relax.

"You okay?" Abby asked.

"Bad memories," Ziva mumbled. She scooted closer to Abby. The feel of the coffin against her back was unsettling. She focused on the feel Abby's skin and tried to ignore the way the coffin pressed against her from every side.

"Thinking of that crate you and Tony got stuck in?" Abby asked in a whisper.

"No," Ziva said with wry chuckle. "We had plenty of room." She edged closer but only relaxed when Abby's hand moved up and down her spine comfortingly.

"You gonna be able to sleep okay?" Abby asked.

"Of course," Ziva said a bit too quickly.

Abby was silent. She continued her caresses even as she felt Ziva relaxing under her fingers. She knew her lover was exhausted. Ziva was still recovering from the explosion, and the day traveling with the Ambassador had been tiring. Ziva would have been on full alert throughout the day. Often the mental exertion was more tiring than physical challenges, especially for a woman of action like Ziva.

A few minutes later, Abby felt Ziva's body grow heavier against her. She tilted her face and saw that Ziva was asleep, but there was still a coiled tension in her body. Abby assumed it was sleeping in a new place. She watched over her a few minutes and then allowed herself to relax.

* * *

Abby wasn't sure what time it was when she awoke, but she knew something was very wrong.

Ziva was shoving her away in the confines of the coffin. Ziva's body was as rigid as steel.

"Je ne peux pas respirer, Jenny," Ziva mumbled. She tossed to one side and slammed her hands against the side of the coffin. "Obtenez-moi hors d'ici!"

"Ziva?" Abby whispered. She sat up and reached for her lover. She had no idea what Ziva was saying, but she was pretty sure it was in French.

"Hâte, Jenny!" Ziva gasped. "Je ne peux pas respirer." She slammed against the side of the coffin and then sat up abruptly, obviously still sleep. "Hâte. Aidez-moi." Ziva clutched her chest and breathed rapidly. "Jenny, Ne me laissez pas comme ceci."

"Ziva?" Abby said in a bit of a panic. She touched her lover's arm and jerked back when Ziva gripped her wrist with incredible force.

"Je ne peux pas respirer," Ziva gasped. Her eyes were open and it took a moment for her to focus. Her breathing slowed and she leaned closer until recognition dawned. "Abby?" she asked hollowly.

"I'm right here." She guided Ziva toward her and she held her lover as her breathing returned to normal. "You're shaking," Abby whispered, concern coloring her tone.

Ziva nodded. "Bad memories."

"Which you are going to tell me about," Abby said forcefully. "Right now."

Ziva's body sagged against Abby's. "It is the coffin," she whispered.

A million theories went through Abby's mind, none of them correct. Mostly, she figured the idea of a coffin creeped out Ziva, as it did many people. "It's kinda' odd the first time you're into one," Abby admitted. Perhaps it reminded Ziva of Jenny. After all, that was whose name she had called out.

"It is not the first time," Ziva said darkly.

Abby stiffened. She doubted Ziva ever chose to sleep in a coffin before.

"I was on a case in Poland," Ziva whispered. She snuggled closer to Abby, needing the warmth and comfort of her lover's body. "Drugs were being smuggled into the country in caskets."

Abby didn't like cold tone in Ziva's voice.

"Jenny was following the drug runners and I went to the cemetery where the drugs were unloaded." Ziva shivered. "Can you turn on the light?" she asked.

"Sure," Abby said. She reached for the lamp, bringing Ziva with her because the younger agent refused to let go.

The light came on and Abby was now even more concerned. Ziva was pale and obviously shaken. Abby dipped her head so she could look into Ziva's eyes. She smiled reassuringly. "You need some water?"

Ziva shook her head and rested her cheek on Abby's shoulder. After a few moments of silence, she continued. "When I got there, it went badly."

Abby knew in Ziva's former line of work, when something 'went badly,' people often died. She squeezed Ziva closer.

"They had a hostage, and I was distracted." Ziva sighed, obviously still disgusted with the failure of the mission. "I was struck from behind and when I awoke, I was in a coffin, being lowered into the ground."

Abby swallowed hard, not liking where she knew the story must be going.

"I heard a backhoe, and then dirt covering me, and then nothing." Ziva paused, remembering how utterly helpless she had felt. That moment had reinforced her resolve to never be taken alive during a fight again.

"How did you…" Abby asked after a few moments of silence.

"Hours later," Ziva said quietly. "The darkness was like a presence, pressing down on me. It was hot and the walls felt like they were closing in, like the soil was crushing the casket. I heard gunfire and I knew it was Jenny." She paused, remembering the trust she had shared with Jenny. "I knew she would come. But, the air in the casket was hot and thick and I knew my oxygen was low. I wasn't sure she'd get to me in time."

"How did she?" Abby asked.

Ziva laughed. "She saw the fresh grave and used the backhoe."

"The Director could drive a backhoe?" Abby asked with a giggle.

"She was a woman with many skills," Ziva said fondly. "I heard the bucket scrape the coffin and…" Ziva sighed in disgust. "I panicked. I was certain I would run out of air before she opened the casket. I had been there so long and was prepared to suffocate and go to sleep. As soon as I knew she was coming for me, I fought. I did not want to die with rescue so close at hand."

"But you made it," Abby said forcefully.

Ziva nodded and smiled. "Jenny was covered in dirt and mud. I had never seen her hair so completely… a mess, and I had never seen her more beautiful." Her expression was both sad and a bit wistful at the same time. She reached up and rubbed her _Magen David_. "She was an incredible woman," Ziva whispered, her voice reverent.

Abby felt a twinge of jealousy shoot through her chest. It was stupid. So what if Ziva thought Jenny was beautiful and incredible? Abby agreed on both counts. It was just… she didn't know how close the two had been. "So, did you guys…"

Ziva turned and gave Abby her attention. "Did we what?"

Abby blushed.

"With Jenny," Ziva said and then began to giggle. It felt good to chase away her fear with humor. "No," she said. She picked up Abby's hand. "I loved her deeply, Abby. She was my best friend. I could trust her at my side in any battle."

"I'm being crazy," Abby admitted.

"If you ever have questions, Chaton, you need only ask." Ziva lifted Abby's hand and kissed her knuckles.

Abby smiled and looked down at the blanket. "What happened after the backhoe?"

"Jenny pulled me from the ground and calmed me." She looked into Abby's eyes. "She never told a soul."

"That's so like her," Abby said with a tone of awe. Her eyes shot open wide. "Why didn't you tell me?" She looked down at her coffin. "Ziva, you should have told me. I never would have had you sleep here."

"I thought it would be okay," Ziva said honestly. "It is not like you closed the lid on us."

"Come on," Abby said forcefully. She climbed out of the coffin. "We're having a campout."

"A camp out?" Ziva said slowly. "With a tent?"

"With blankets on the floor and the two of us nowhere near a coffin." Abby yanked Ziva to her feet. "And tomorrow, I'm ordering a sofa bed so we have somewhere to sleep when you stay over."

Ziva didn't argue. In fact, she was more relieved than she cared to admit. "So, since we are awake…" Ziva let her eyes drift to the clock. "And I have to get out of bed in two hours anyway…" She bit her lip and then ran one finger over her chin playfully.

"You were thinking you could just seduce me?" Abby laughed as she gathered a stack of blankets and two pillows and carried them over to make a comfortable little nest in front of her couch.

"Something like that," Ziva said as she rested both hands on Abby's hips. "But what I would really like is to just hold you," she admitted. The dark memories were still casting shadows over her spirits.

Abby turned, never letting Ziva's hands break contact. "I like the way you think," she said with a loving smile. She leaned down and gently kissed Ziva. "Come on, darlin'." She guided Ziva down to the blankets on the floor, intent on chasing away the chill of the nightmare.

"Now this is the way to start the day," Ziva said as she sprawled across the blankets and watched Abby crawl toward her. "I could get used to this."

"Good," Abby said as she lowered her body onto Ziva's. She sighed as her skin met Ziva's. She dipped her face and kissed the woman who had completely stolen her heart. She wanted to start everyday wrapped around Ziva. That was a scary thought, one she wasn't yet ready to speak out loud, no matter how happy the idea made her.

"Tell me about little Abby Sciuto," Ziva whispered once they were snuggled around each other.

"What do you want to know?" Abby traced lazy circles across Ziva's belly.

"Tell me about my curious kitten when she was young. Tell me anything," Ziva said in the darkness. "I need to hear your voice."

"Curious kitten? Hmm." Abby wiggled, repositioning her face until she found the perfect resting spot next to Ziva's neck. "Every summer in New Orleans, I would study a new animal," Abby whispered. "When I was seven, I tracked a raccoon pack every night for three weeks. I wrote down every place they visited, mostly garbage cans, and named each one. There were five of them, by the way."

Ziva chuckled, picturing young Abby with a tiny notebook observing the creatures. "Named the raccoons or the garbage cans?" she asked playfully.

"The raccoons," Abby said as she poked Ziva in the ribs.

"Just trying to clarify," Ziva whispered in the darkness. "What were their names?" she asked with a smile.

"Bubba, Madame Raccoon Defarge, Dr. Spreckles, Titania, and Diana," Abby rattled off the names easily.

Ziva chuckled and pulled Abby a bit closer. "I recognize the Dr. Seuss, Dickens, and Shakespeare. You were a well-read seven-year-old." That fact didn't surprise Ziva. "I do not know this Bubba. Was Diana named after the Goddess?"

"Bubba is an old school southern name." Abby paused, a bit embarrassed. "Diana, as in Diana Prince. Well, she's better known as Wonder Woman."

"Wonder Woman?" Ziva asked with a giggle.

"Let's just say Lynda Carter fighting evil in skimpy outfits inspired me," Abby said as buried her face against Ziva's neck.

"We will have to discuss this further when I am feeling better," Ziva said huskily. "I was partial to the cape," she admitted.

"I take it you got Wonder Woman reruns in Israel?" Abby giggled at the thought of young Ziva watching old TV shows.

"My father was not happy when he found me watching a scantily clad female superhero explaining the virtues of American ideals." Ziva laughed as she remembered her father's expression. The veins on his neck had bulged to the size of small ropes. "What other animals did you track?" she asked.

"The summer I was nine, I tracked my first gator," Abby said with a smile.

"Gator?" Ziva asked.

"American Alligator, _Alligator_ _mississippiensis_ , I named mine Templeton," Abby explained. "I was going through my _Charlotte's_ _Web_ phase."

"You tracked a vicious beast when you were nine?" Ziva asked in a shocked tone.

"Templeton was not vicious," Abby said reasonably. "You just had to remember his unique dinner choices, namely, anything smaller or slower than him." She nipped Ziva's shoulder. "And remember to stay away from the end of the gator with the teeth."

"Tell me more," Ziva asked. She kissed the top of Abby's head and felt her body relaxing as she continued listening. This was what she had been searching her entire life for without even knowing it.

Ziva wished she could go to sleep with Abby every night, that she could have the quiet strength of Abby's embrace waiting for her at the end of each day, but she didn't want to scare off her lover. Instead, she simply welcomed Abby's kisses and was thankful for the moment she shared with her beautiful lover. Ziva knew in her line of work, every day could be her last, so she intended to make the most of her time with Abby.

* * *

Across town, others were awake and plotting to make the most of the next day. The blueprints for the main banquet room of the Mandarin Oriental Washington were spread out on a table in a dimly lit motel room. Two men leaned over the table and went over the plan. An Israeli uniform hung on the back of the bathroom door, waiting to be worn for the event. The taller man pointed to a doorway that led to a covered entry where the dignitaries entered and exited their vehicles. "This is where we would normally bring the Ambassador out," Major Alon said quietly.

"And the Mossad?" the shorter man asked.

"She will of course prefer a less conventional choice." He smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Somewhere with fewer high rise windows that have clear vantage points of the loading zone"

"But you will convince her differently?" the shorter man asked.

"Why?" Alon asked. "When it will be so much easier if we follow her plan?" He pointed to the entrance Ziva had chosen for the Ambassador's arrival. "I will be with the Ambassador here," he said. "You will fire on the decoy vehicle when the door opens here." He pointed to the normal entryway. "Then I will act."

The second man smiled. He liked the idea of Major Alon taking the biggest risk. "And the Mossad?"

"Eli David's daughter will be the first to die," Alon said with a shrug.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

McGee tugged his jacket into place. He was wearing his new Kevlar vest; his old one was shredded and covered in bomber goo. He wore the new vest over his dress shirt and the bulky material made his suit jacket ride up. "How do you get your jacket to look so nice?" he asked Ziva.

"You think I look nice?" Ziva's eye sparkled playfully. She ran her hand down the front of her black jacket. It fell perfectly, accenting her curves without disrupting the line of her suit. Only a subtle bit of extra bulk made the Kevlar visible.

"Well, yeah," McGee said. He leaned against the top of his car and took a long look at Ziva and smiled. "Your Kevlar vest barely shows, but I don't think that's it." He rubbed his chin, pretending to consider her.

She allowed the scrutiny and even did a twirl for him to get a better look. When she stopped, facing him, she raised one eyebrow. "This is not my new NCIS vest," she explained with a smirk. "You should get one for undercover work. The cut is designed to hide the vest and to allow more freedom of movement."

"The vest looks good, but I think it's love." McGee watched as Ziva blushed, confirming his suspicions. "Definitely looks good on you."

"I, ah…" Ziva's words stuck in her throat.

"I'm happy for you," McGee said as went to her side. "And for Abby." He rested a hand on Ziva's shoulder.

Ziva looked down at the pavement. She could feel her blush darkening. "Thank you," she said quietly. She would not deny what she felt for Abby. "How did you know?"

"I didn't until just now," McGee said.

Ziva lifted her head. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Well, not for sure," he amended. "I've noticed that you both seem… well, happier." He shrugged. "Plus, you kinda' get this goofy grin when you look at her."

"I do not!" Ziva said emphatically, terrified that she might.

"Well, no." McGee chuckled. "Ouch!" He took a step back as she hit his arm. "Kidding," he said quickly. "Although, I thought Abby was gonna murder Anna Sadeh in the office."

Ziva closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. "You have no idea," she muttered.

McGee laughed, knowing how possessive Abby could be when she considered something hers. He saw the security officer, Har-El, coming toward them. "Heads up," he said quietly, so only she could hear.

"Shalom," Har-El said as he came up to the two agents.

"Shalom," Ziva said politely.

"Good morning," McGee said as he glanced around the parking lot.

"Everything is in order," Har-El said. "The Ambassador will be down shortly." He pointed toward the far end of the parking structure. Two limousines were approaching.

"Good," Ziva said. She stepped forward when the vehicles stopped and walked around them. They were identical except for the license plate numbers. She knelt and removed a mirror from her pocket along with a small penlight. She tucked both under the first car and angled the light and mirror so she could see the car's undercarriage.

McGee joined her and watched, noting how easily she scanned the vehicle. He knew from experience that using the tiny mirror and penlight to see the various parts of the vehicle was much more difficult than it looked. He followed Ziva to the second car and watched her repeat the process. He decided he should practice the skill. It would take him much longer to check one car than it took Ziva to clear both vehicles.

Har-El handed Ziva and McGee each an earpiece and wrist microphone. "The Ambassador is on his way down."

Ziva and McGee both removed their jackets and quickly put the earpiece and wrist microphones in place. They were pulling their jackets back on when the elevator opened.

"Ambassador," Ziva said with a nod.

The Ambassador nodded politely. "I trust all is ready?"

"Of course," Har-El said as he led the Ambassador and Major Alon to the second car.

"A moment," Ziva said quickly. She stepped up to the Ambassador and took him by the elbow. She led him to the first car.

"What are you doing?" Major Alon demanded.

"I am altering the plan," Ziva said calmly. "The Ambassador and I will be in the first car. Mr. Har-El will accompany you in the second."

Alon's eyes darkened, but he held his tongue.

The Ambassador gave Ziva a curious glance.

"Your safety depends on your movements being unpredictable," Ziva reminded him. "Everyone will expect you to have a decoy car take the lead."

"Very good," the Ambassador said as he climbed into the first vehicle.

Ziva pulled McGee to her. "Go directly to the hotel and wait at the main entrance. Keep your phone on."

"Got it, Boss… err, Ziva." McGee blushed until his ears were bright red.

* * *

The limousine pulled into the circular drive in front of the Mandarin Oriental Washington. Ziva's eyes scanned the area from inside the dark, bulletproof glass of the back seat. She noticed several Israeli officers standing with a US Army officer and two Naval officers. Her eyes darted over them and then to another group of uniformed men. Her eyes stopped on a short, plump Israeli officer near the entrance to the parking structure.

Ziva hit the speed dial on her phone as she used the other hand to open the window to the driver halfway down. "Do not stop," she ordered. "Drive on through the circle and go back out to 12th Street."

The driver nodded and gunned the vehicle past the unloading zone.

"McGee, there is a short Israeli officer near the West entrance of the parking structure," she said as soon as McGee answered his cell phone. "Detain him."

"Got it," McGee said and then hung up his phone and tucked it into his pocket. He drew his weapon and approached the officer in question. He looked at the security officer Har-El had assigned him. The young officer was named Rozen, and McGee had instantly liked the eager young man. "Officer Rozen, we need to get that guy," he told the younger man. "Alive."

The short officer saw them coming and his eyes darted toward the parking structure.

McGee aimed his gun at the man's chest. "NCIS, I need you to put your hands up."

Officer Rozen repeated the order in Hebrew.

The suspect started to reach into his jacket.

"Don't," McGee barked. "Hands up and kneel facing me."

The suspect did as he was told. The hatred in his eyes made it perfectly clear he would have preferred to reach into his jacket.

McGee cuffed the suspect's wrists and held them as he searched him. "Wow," McGee said as he removed three handguns. "This guy packs like Ziva," he told the Israeli security officer.

Rozen smiled as he unloaded the weapons and tucked them into his pockets.

"Hold him," McGee said quietly. He dialed his phone. "Got him."

"And?" Ziva asked.

"The guy has more guns than you," McGee said.

"Is he alive?" Ziva smirked at his comment.

"Of course," McGee said, a bit insulted. "But he hasn't said a word."

"Have security do a complete sweep," Ziva said. She held a hand over the phone receiver and leaned toward the driver. "Take Independence Avenue and turn into the parking structure at the Department of Agriculture."

The driver nodded. As he made the turn, the Ambassador cleared his throat.

Ziva nodded to him in acknowledgement, but spoke into the phone. "Call me when you have finished the sweep. I will be bringing the Ambassador into the basement level parking area."

"And you'll be hanging out at the Department of Agriculture until then?" McGee asked in a confused tone.

"Since 911, all government buildings in DC have increased security. I will be sitting with the Ambassador and at least four armed Marines. Call when the area is secure." She hung up and turned to the Ambassador. "Sir?"

The Ambassador's eyes widened. "You are quite thorough," he complimented.

"I intend to keep you alive," she said bluntly.

"And the reason you switched vehicles and sent the Major in the other car?" he asked.

"I cannot protect you both," she said smoothly. In truth, being around Gibbs had honed Ziva's 'gut' even more than her years as a spy had. Her gut told her that Alon was hiding something. That didn't necessarily mean he was a threat. Most people in his line of business were hiding things.

"I see," the Ambassador said quietly. He smiled darkly. "I do not like him either," he admitted. "He is a political man. A political man who wears a uniform worries me."

"Every person who wears a uniform is political," Ziva pointed out. "Especially the uniform he wears."

The Ambassador nodded and leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes. The conversation was over.

* * *

Ziva waited twenty-five minutes until McGee had cleared the parking structure. She then waited while the Ambassador had lunch with two hundred other diplomats. She stood in the ballroom watching the Ambassador make his way through the crowd. She truly hated diplomatic details. She trailed along with the Ambassador a few feet behind him, while her eyes darted around the room looking for any suspicious movement.

She had wanted to shoot two diplomats within the first twenty minutes, the Ambassador to Liechtenstein and the Ambassador to Paraguay. Each mistakenly thought it was a good idea to grab Ziva's rather shapely ass. Each was now sporting a bruise around their wrist. Each found the furthest place in the room to hide after she had whispered, "Grabbing a Mossad officer is a good way to end up dead." The threat had been even more frightening because she had delivered it in each man's native tongue.

Four hours later, the Ambassador was safely at his home. Ziva made her way to her car, climbed inside, and collapsed in the seat. She took out her cell phone and dialed the number she had wanted to call all morning.

"Are you blown up?" Abby asked instead of saying hello.

"No, mon Chaton," Ziva said as a smile lit her eyes. "And McGee is not blown up either." She glanced toward the building looking for her partner. Not seeing him, she continued. "What would you say if I told you to meet me at the Savoy Suites on Wisconsin Avenue in ten minutes?" she asked, her voice husky.

"I'd say it would take me at least fifteen minutes drive time." Abby sat in front of her computer and started logging out. "Should I log out and meet you?"

Ziva sighed. "How I wish we could," she said. "I still have to debrief Gibbs."

Abby could hear the exhaustion in her lover's voice. "So you'll be here at NCIS?" she asked hopefully. She wanted to wrap the smaller woman in her arms.

"Briefly." Ziva rested her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. "So, if I were to book us a room, in the very near future…"

Abby smiled. "Unless I was working on something huge for Gibbs, I would clock out for 'lunch' and be there in sixteen minutes."

Ziva smiled as she held the phone to her ear. She used the other hand to rub her temple. "I would be waiting for you," Ziva said wistfully. "Sitting naked in the private hot tub, with German chocolates and chilled Caf-Pow."

"Oh," Abby closed her eyes and pictured the scene. "You know the way to my heart." She logged back onto her computer and began opening a page for the Savoy Suites. The hotel was a fifteen-minute drive from the NCIS office, just as Abby had estimated.

Ziva let her mind wander. She had been so focused at the Ambassador's event that her brain was exhausted. "I should come down to your lab today and drag you off to a supply closet and make love to you. I would, if I did not respect Gibbs so much."

"Yeah," Abby agreed. She would never disrespect Gibbs. He had asked them to keep their relationship away from work, and while she couldn't stop herself from drooling over Ziva at every turn, she wouldn't actually make love to her in the building. "Damn Gibbs," she said fondly.

"You deserve better anyway," Ziva said quietly. "Never just a swifty in a closet."

"A quickie, darlin', and you're right. I like it when you take your time." Abby opened the hotel webpage and looked through the room choices.

Ziva sighed, imagining Abby's skin. She heard the passenger door open and moved on instinct. The phone fell from her hand and she had her gun drawn. "Move and you die!" she yelled as she used the other hand to open her own door and she slid her body to the ground.

Abby felt her heart rate instantly double. She heard Ziva's shouted warning and then the muffled sound of the phone obviously bouncing across the floor and then disconnecting. Abby knew that couldn't mean anything good.

"Ack!" McGee felt his heart spasm in his chest as he leapt away from the car door with both hands up. "It's me," he said quickly. He took a few gasps of air. "Geeze, Ziva. You took ten years off my life."

Ziva let out a slow breath. "I almost took them all," she said in a growl. She holstered her weapon and leaned into the car to find her phone. She grabbed it and saw that the call had been disconnected. "You may die yet," she told McGee as she held up the phone.

"Gibbs?" he asked with a gulp.

"Worse," Ziva said as she hit redial, hoping and praying that Abby wasn't sending Gibbs and a dozen officers to the scene.

"Ziva!" Abby yelled into the cell phone. She turned her face to the phone receiver from her desk. "It's Ziva," she told Gibbs on the other line.

"I am fine," Ziva swore to her lover. "False alarm."

"She's fine," Abby told Gibbs.

"What the hell happened?" Gibbs yelled into the phone.

Abby spoke to Ziva. "Gibbs wants to know what happened, and so do I."

"McGee jumped into the car without knocking," Ziva said as she glared at her partner.

McGee squirmed. "I shouldn't have to knock to get into _our_ NCIS car," he said. He folded his arms over his chest and bit his lip.

Abby spoke to Gibbs. "McGee surprised Ziva when he jumped in the car."

Gibbs let out a disgusted sigh. "Remind McGee that surprising a Mossad trained assassin is a good way to retire permanently." He hung up his phone, but there was a bit of a smirk on his weathered features.

Abby hung up and focused on Ziva. "Don't scare me like that," she said. Her tone was sharp, but the concern was evident as well.

"It was not me," Ziva insisted. She waved a hand at McGee.

"I didn't do anything," McGee complained pitifully.

Abby took over. "Give Timmy the phone," she said quickly.

Ziva smiled, relieved that Abby's wrath was aimed at McGee and not her.

McGee took the phone. "Gibbs?" he asked hopefully.

"What the hell where you thinking, McGee?" Abby yelled. "Trained Mossad assassin? Armed and alone in her car? Surprising her?" She let out a growl. "You're a smart guy, McGee. Do the math."

"Yeah, I know," he said sheepishly. "But I've never actually been able to surprise her before," he added as his brows crinkled. He smiled brightly, pinning Ziva in his gaze. "She was distracted," he said with a snicker.

"Yeah, well, that's…" Abby scowled. Ziva being distracted put her in danger. Abby didn't like the idea of Ziva being distracted, especially if Abby was the one doing the distracting.

"You distracted her," McGee said in a teasing tone. "You two were having phone sex, weren't you?"

"Give Ziva the phone," Abby ordered. She was blushing even though she was in her lab alone. "And we were not having phone sex," she quickly added. Though, that probably would have been the case if they'd had a few more minutes.

McGee handed Ziva the phone. "She wants to finish having phone sex," he said with a smug smirk.

"We had not started having phone sex yet," Ziva said dismissively. She smiled when McGee's ears turned bright red. "Mon Chaton, I am sorry that I worried you."

McGee's eyebrows rose in unison when he heard the term of endearment. He wouldn't have expected Ziva to be so… loving, and… cute, especially not in front of him.

"So you were planning phone sex?" Abby asked with a giggle.

"I am planning to see you as soon as I can," she said as quietly as possible. "McGee and I have to check in with Gibbs, then I will come to the lab." She smiled, a bit embarrassed by how much she was admitting in front of McGee.

McGee tried to offer some privacy, but he was sitting only a few feet away, so he looked out the window pretending to find the outside of the Ambassador's residence extremely interesting.

"Can't wait," Abby said as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and twirled her hair with a finger. "So, then what?"

Ziva let out a sound that started as a sigh but ended as a growl. "Then I have to come back here and take the Ambassador to a party at the Mandarin Oriental. I am supposed to call when I am finished talking to Gibbs and confirm the time."

"You'll be careful at the party?" Abby asked, her tone suddenly serious.

"Of course," Ziva said. Her voice was incredibly gentle and eyes cast downward shyly.

Abby sighed into the phone, feeling intoxicated by the emotions filling her. "When you use that tone I expect you to call me Chaton or kitten," she said in a husky whisper.

"I almost did," Ziva admitted. "But when I let that slip a moment ago, McGee almost swallowed his tongue. I did not feel like fishing it out of his throat." She lifted her gaze and smiled. McGee looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. She cleared her throat. "I must go. The sooner I say goodbye, the sooner I can say hello in person."

"Drive carefully," Abby ordered.

"I am sure that McGee will be a side seat driver if I am in too much of a hurry," Ziva said tolerantly.

"Back seat," Abby corrected with a chuckle.

"I know this expression," Ziva said mischievously. "But I do not wish to be in the backseat with him. I will save that position for you."

McGee put his face in both hands. "Can you just shoot me? Please? Cuz you two lovebirds are torturing me."

"Goodbye, Chaton," Ziva said quietly.

"Come see me soon, mon amore," Abby replied. She hung up and sighed as she looked down at the phone in her hand.

"Mon amore?" DiNozzo said from the doorway. He hurried into the room like a bloodhound with a fresh scent. "I should have been listening earlier. Who is this guy? Have you run a background check?"

"Tony," Abby said as held her hand to her chest, startled. "You scared me."

"Yeah, well, your taste in men scares me," DiNozzo said as he came to the table. "So, come on. Give me the guy's name and social security number and I'll look into him."

"No," Abby said firmly.

"Abbs, you know I love ya' like a leather clad, inked up little sister." DiNozzo held out his hand. "Come on."

"Not necessary," Abby insisted. She felt her cheeks begin to warm.

"You're blushing," DiNozzo said with huge grin.

"Leave her alone, Tony," Gibbs said as he swept into the room. He handed Abby a fresh Caf-Pow and looked at DiNozzo expectantly. "Don't you have something for her?"

"Oh, yeah." DiNozzo reached into his pocket and pulled out an evidence bag full of bullet cartridges. "Happy lab technician's day," he said with a smile.

"No such day," Abby said as she grabbed the bag, but she smiled sweetly.

"Abby has a new man," DiNozzo said in a warning tone. "She won't let me do a background check on him."

"Nobody likes a tattle tail, Tony," Abby said dangerously.

Gibbs was calm. "I have already thoroughly vetted Abby's suitor." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Wha… what?" DiNozzo spun and glared at Gibbs. "And you didn't tell m…" He swallowed with a gulp. "What I mean is…"

Gibbs paused with his cup to his lips, looking at DiNozzo expectantly.

"I'm shutting up," DiNozzo said grumpily. He decided a change of subject would be a great idea. "So, any word on the guy McGee grabbed?"

"You mean the guy the Israelis snatched up and refused to share?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes and raised his voice angrily. "The one we did not get to interview even though Ziva IDed him and McGee collared him? That guy?" The veins on the sides of Gibbs' neck bulged as his blood pressure surged.

"Uh, yeah, that one." DiNozzo suddenly wanted to be talking about Abby's mystery man again.

Gibbs glared, not happy that the Israelis were keeping him out of the loop.

"I'll just be shutting up, Boss," DiNozzo said quietly.

* * *

Ziva stopped by a bit later, but for Abby, it was almost worse than not seeing her at all. Ziva only had time to hurry into Abby's lab, give her quick kiss and then head back upstairs to give Gibbs an update before returning to the embassy.

Abby lost herself in work. She moved through her computer files, double-checking, triple-checking, and then, just for the heck of it, quadruple-checking her results on the stolen ammunition case. The chief petty officer had been selling the stolen goods on Craig's list and, apparently, the people who bought the items were just as boring as the thief. She had cross-referenced the listings and discovered that the chief petty officer was also selling surplus socks and underwear.

"Who buys underwear on Craig's list?" she asked the computer.

The door opened and DiNozzo entered. He was obviously as bored as Abby. All the leads on the bombing had gone cold. "Got anything?" He came closer and leaned against the counter.

"Wanna buy some underwear on Craig's list?" Abby asked with forced cheer.

"Not even if they belonged to Angelina Jolie and she was gonna deliver them in person." DiNozzo scrunched his face and looked at the screen. "Who buys underwear on Craig's list?" he said, repeating Abby's earlier comment.

"I know!" Abby spun and faced him. "But our theft petty officer has been making about two grand a week… selling underwear… on Craig's list."

"That's just wrong," DiNozzo said. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to one side.

"And he was making twice that on the pilfered ammo," Abby added.

"Two, four…" DiNozzo's eyes widened. "That's six freakin' grand a week."

"Twenty-four freakin' grand a month," Abby pointed out.

"This guy's dead meat," DiNozzo promised. He put both hands on his hips. "Do you have any idea what I could do with twenty-four grand every month?"

"Make twenty-four high class call girls very wealthy?" Abby asked wickedly.

"Funny. Very funny." He scowled. "Have you gone over all bomber guy's stuff yet?"

"Don't remind me." Abby glared at him. "The entire evidence locker is filled to the gills with boxes. Homeland Security is having a technician inventory it right now. It looks like we're having a Black Friday sale on electronics. "

"Well, if I had twenty-four grand, I'd have my call girls help you. But I don't, so I won't." DiNozzo spun and headed for the door.

"I was kidding," Abby yelled. "Tony, come on. I'll never get through it all this week." He was gone by the time she finished the sentence. "Big baby," she told the closed door.

* * *

For the second time in as many days, Ziva returned in the early morning hours. This time, Abby was waiting at Ziva's apartment and, as she had the previous night, Abby had insisted that Ziva sleep. Which didn't sit well with Ziva.

"Abby, I need you more than I need sleep," Ziva said reasonably. She was naked, in bed next to Abby, and doing her best to convince her lover that rest was not a priority.

Abby intercepted Ziva's wandering hands. "It's almost three in the morning, darlin'. I'm not sending you off to face terrorists without enough sleep."

"But…" Ziva's lip stuck out. "But…"

"There's no pouting in spy-land," Abby said firmly.

Ziva sighed, but didn't stop pouting. "And apparently, there is no sex in spy-land either."

Abby laughed and then gave Ziva a short kiss. "There'll be plenty of sex. Later. After you've healed and you're no longer running on a few hours of sleep every night."

Ziva let out a breath in huff of air. "Fine." She looked over toward Abby. "What about a quickie?"

Abby laughed and rolled toward Ziva. "What happened to, 'never a swifty?' Hmm?"

"That was before you went on this sexual hunger strike," Ziva said. Her brown eyes sparkled playfully, making it clear she was mostly joking. "Maybe a tiny little appetizer?"

Abby snorted a laugh and pulled Ziva closer and kissed her. "You're lucky I'm such a push over." She ran her hands over Ziva's bare skin and closed her eyes, then inhaled wantonly. She was craving Ziva's body, but still had lingering doubts because she didn't want to put her lover in jeopardy.

Ziva smiled, knowing the battle was won. She ran a hand over Abby's belly and felt her tremble at the touch. "Mon Chaton, I will make you purr."

Abby rolled on top of Ziva and took a plundering kiss. When she lifted her head, she was panting, overcome with desire. "Less talk. More action. We're on a deadline, woman."

Ziva laughed and pivoted so they switched positions. She looked down at Abby and caressed her face. "I love you," she whispered tenderly and then she kissed Abby. It was not the fevered, lustful, rushed kiss Abby had expected. It was soft, loving, and slow, as if they had all the time in the world, and, Abby realized, it was exactly what she needed. It was exactly what they both needed.

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Abby stared at the wall of boxes as if she could intimidate them into submission. She was standing in front of the chain link gate of the evidence lock up in the huge underground garage beneath the NCIS lab. There was a large area where cars were processed, and an area off to one side with a long table for processing items that were smaller than a car, but generally too big to hall upstairs to Abby's lab.

"I need a system," she told the mountain of boxes. She glanced down at the four-page inventory of the items. "I need ten more people," she said, then tapped her foot grumpily. "And a really good system."

DiNozzo seemed to appear out of nowhere. "Well, my call girls are all busy," he said.

"Are you still mad about that?" Abby turned and her eyes lit up. "Aww, I love you, Tony," she said as she hurried forward and grabbed the fresh Caf-Pow he was extending.

"You love the Caf-Pow." He waved his hand in the air in a flourish and bowed. "Now, tell me, oh collared one, of this mythical system of which you speak."

She smiled and touched her studded collar. "I don't have that figured out just yet." She waved a hand at him. "But I will. Alphabetical, numerical by serial number, by size of box… haven't decided yet."

DiNozzo looked at the evidence lock up. The boxes were packed tightly, filling every inch of space in front of the door. "How 'bout, closest to the door and work your way back?" he suggested.

"Always a crowd favorite," Abby said before taking another sip of her Caf-Pow. She picked up the invoice and her eyes scanned the list of items as she took gulps of Caf-Pow. The third line on the second page made her mouth open, drooling Caf-Pow onto the cement floor. "Holy crap."

"What?" DiNozzo scooted closer. "Did you find that missing crate from the end of _Raiders of the Lost Ark_?"

She shot him a dirty look. "There are three computers in there." She slammed her Caf-Pow onto the long metal table. "Hello? Computers?" she said as if he was mentally challenged. "Computers, those wonderful inventions that hide gigabytes of terrorist plots?"

DiNozzo shook his head. "No," he said dismissively. "Those computers haven't even been taken out of the boxes yet. Factory seals are still place. All that stuff is brand new. I don't even know why you have to process it."

She walked over and slapped the back of his head. Hard. "Clues, DiNozzo," she said, sounding extremely Gibbs-like. "Clues I should find, and you should buy."

"I don't need to buy a clue," he complained like a third grader forced to eat his peas. He rubbed the back of his head. "That really hurt," he said in a wounded tone as he dropped his hand to his side. "Ouch!" he said as another, harder slap hit the back of his head. "Boss?" He spun.

"We process everything," Gibbs said. He also had a Caf-Pow.

"Yay! A spare." Abby grabbed the beverage and put it on the counter next to the first.

Gibbs stared at the stuffed evidence lock up. "Abbs, see if you can find those computers. Process them first." He glanced at DiNozzo. "Tony can supply the muscle."

"Hey," DiNozzo said before he could stop the word from tumbling out of his mouth.

"Got a problem with that?" Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

"No," DiNozzo said quickly. "What I meant was… hey, what a great idea."

"That's what I thought." Gibbs turned and went to the elevator.

"New system," Abby said as she turned her focus on the task. "Glove up so you don't contaminate my evidence and start moving boxes." She pointed to the area between the long metal table and the evidence lock up. "Spread plastic sheeting on the floor first and then we start stacking."

DiNozzo crossed his arms over his chest and stuck out his lower lip.

"There's no pouting in forensics," Abby said as she headed to the locker where she kept the gear. She smiled briefly, remembering where a similar comment led the night before.

* * *

Ziva wanted to pout. She was standing a few feet behind the Ambassador as he spoke with a roomful of diplomats. They were inside the Israeli embassy and, while that should have been the safest place for him, Ziva didn't let her guard down. This was the third speaking engagement of the day, and it wasn't even noon yet.

The Ambassador finished his speech and polite applause filtered through the room. Ziva moved a bit closer and took his arm when he turned to leave. "The car is waiting," she said as she weaved through the dense crowd. "We are on the move," she said into her wrist microphone. He had another engagement across town in less than an hour.

They reached an intersecting corridor near his private offices. One direction led to the main entrance of the embassy, and the other to his residence.

The Ambassador stopped. "Enough," he said, shaking his head.

Ziva's eyebrow rose, wondering why he was stopping. Her eyes scanned for any sign of danger, but she only saw his staff exchanging knowing glances. "Are you ill?" Ziva asked.

"No," the Ambassador said. "But I grow weary of this diplomatic nonsense." He nodded toward the door that led to his private residence. "We are finished," he decreed. He turned to Anna Sadeh. "Clear my schedule."

Anna nodded politely and flipped open a large, leather bound date-book. "The afternoon or the entire day?" she asked.

"The day," he waved a hand in the air.

"But sir," Alon said as he hurried toward the Ambassador. "You have a meeting with the UN Secretary General."

Ziva edged closer, putting her body in Alon's path.

Alon took a step back when he noticed Ziva's hand resting on the butt of her gun. "You can't cancel on the Secretary General," he said.

The Ambassador smiled, but not kindly. "When did you take over Miss Sadeh's position?" he asked.

Alon swallowed and moved back a few steps. "I apologize," he said contritely. "Of course, your schedule is yours to change however you like."

"I am so glad that I have your permission, Major," the Ambassador said. His eyes were cold.

Ziva wasn't sure what was going on, but she knew all of her carefully choreographed security plans had just been upended.

Anna scooted to Ziva's side. "The schedule is flexible," she told her. "Often the Ambassador tires of diplomatic events.

Ziva nodded politely, but wondered why the Ambassador took his position if he didn't want to attend diplomatic events. He was, after all, a diplomat.

"Officer David, we are finished for the day," the Ambassador said as he pointed to the door to his residence. "I will not leave my home until tomorrow morning."

"I shall accompany you." Ziva moved to join him.

"Unnecessary, but thank you anyway." He placed his hand on the door.

"Sir, my assignment is to keep you alive." Ziva's expression darkened. "That assignment does not stop at this door."

"Ah, but it does," he said with a smile. "Go. Enjoy your day and I will see you in the morning."

Ziva started to argue, but thought better of it. The previous days, she had been at his side until the early morning hours. She had only retired for the day when he entered his home. He had a security staff that remained in the residence at all times, and he didn't want her accompanying him there.

"Until tomorrow," Ziva said. She forced a smile, when what she really wanted to do was go into the residence and personally inspect the security measures. Instead, she removed her cell phone and dialed. "We are finished for the day," she said.

"Really?" McGee asked. He was in front of the Embassy waiting for the entourage to move across town.

"The Ambassador no longer requires our services today," Ziva said, practically spitting the words. "I will meet you at the car." She hung up.

Alon and the rest of the staff filtered out of the hall into the office doors along the corridor.

Only Anna remained next to Ziva. "Don't take it personally," she said as she rested a hand on Ziva's arm. "A special guest arrived this morning."

Ziva twisted slightly, causing Anna to remove her hand. "Mistress?" Ziva asked.

Anna bent forward, hiding her huge smile. "Miss David, you are very good at your job."

"That is the point," Ziva said as she turned. "I will see you in the morning." With her assignment finished for the day, she wanted nothing more than to return to NCIS and visit the lab.

She exited the embassy and saw McGee near the gate.

"What happened?" McGee asked. He was standing next to the driver's side door, leaning his elbows on the roof.

"The Ambassador is… entertaining," Ziva said as she opened the door and sat in the passenger seat.

"Well, doesn't he want you with him?" McGee climbed in and started the car.

"Not that kind of entertaining," Ziva said as she buckled her seatbelt.

McGee crinkled his brow, then his eyes widened. "Oh," he said when he understood.

"Yes, oh." Ziva wanted to find Abby and do some entertaining of her own. Unfortunately, she would have to settle for a hug and perhaps a few kisses.

For a moment, they enjoyed a brief silence, each caught up in their own thoughts.

McGee glanced over at Ziva and noticed that her eyes were becoming more expressive. Then he realized that her eyes were showing happiness. She hadn't become more expressive; she had become happy.

Ziva stared out the car window at the buildings as they rode, finding the best windows where a sniper could hide or the place where a bomb would have the most effect on the bustling crowds. It was something she did unconsciously, born of a lifetime spent on streets all too often covered in blood. Even as she calculated possible threats, she had a slight smile, a smile that belonged to Abby. She wondered what the beautiful technician was doing and if, perhaps, Abby was thinking about their budding relationship.

McGee made his way onto the Dwight D Eisenhower freeway. "You know, Tony's gonna be thrilled," McGee said.

"Why?" Ziva asked, distracted by her thoughts of her lover.

"Abby's got him moving boxes, lots of boxes." McGee chuckled. "We had three evidence techs from Homeland Security to pack them all up when we left the scene."

"Which scene?" She turned toward him.

"Bomber guy, Ghazi Nasser," McGee said. "All those stolen electronics have to be checked for forensic evidence." He turned toward her. "I don't envy Abby. There were enough boxes to stock a Costco."

"What kind of electronics?" Ziva had meant to ask about the scene when she first heard about the electronics, but thought Gibbs would let her know if there was any danger. She tilted her head to one side. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing at attention. Her subconscious wasn't just talking to her, it was screaming.

"Stereos, TVs, DVD players," he said. "Oh, and a few computers. That's why Abby has Tony slaving away in the evidence bay. She wants those first."

"Are you certain the boxes have never been opened?" Ziva leaned forward.

"Yeah," McGee said. "They're factory sealed."

"Perhaps." Ziva picked up her phone and dialed. There was no answer so she dialed another number. She frowned when Abby's cell phone went to voice mail. She dialed again.

"What's up, David?" Gibbs answered gruffly.

"I cannot reach Abby on her cell phone or in the lab." Ziva glanced over at McGee, and covered the phone. "Hurry," she whispered.

"She's in the evidence bay," Gibbs said. He was tempted to tell her he wasn't her girlfriend's secretary, but something in her tone made him stand and look around the bullpen.

"Gibbs, find her and make certain she does not open any of the packages until I inspect them," Ziva said in a rush.

"Weren't they sealed from the factory?" He was walking toward the elevator.

"If I prepared a package, you would swear it was factory sealed," Ziva said darkly.

"I'm on it." Gibbs hung up and glared at the elevator. It was moving too slowly so he headed for the stairs. He read between Ziva's words. The only reason she would seal a 'package' was if it contained a very nasty surprise.

* * *

Tony let out a sigh and fell to his knees. "Oh sweet Mary mother of God," he said with a gasp.

Abby leaned around a stack of boxes to look at him.

Tony pressed a gloved hand to a box containing a computer. "Jesus, Joseph, Mary, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, George and Ringo!"

"I think your biblical shouts of joy detoured into the musical realm," Abby said as she laughed at her friend's antics. "My computers," Abby exclaimed as she rushed forward. "You found them."

"In the last freakin' row," DiNozzo fell back onto his butt. "Finally."

"Help me carry these to my table," Abby said as she took the top box.

"But…" He climbed to his feet and followed her to the table empty-handed. He pointed to a huge stack of boxes. "I moved, like, _all_ of those."

"You're the muscle, remember?" Abby said with a sweet smile. She put on a pair of orange glasses and then took a magnifying glass with an attached blue light and began searching the sides of the box. She quickly realized there was no trace evidence so she took a box knife and slit the tape, and then carefully removed the laptop computer. She noticed DiNozzo standing in place rubbing his back. "Shoo!" she told him.

"You're worse than Gibbs," he said as he turned and disappeared behind the boxes.

"Now for some power." Abby plugged the charger into the back of the computer and then plugged that into a heavy-duty surge protector on top of the table. "Hmpt," she grumbled when nothing happened. She peeked over the back of the table and realized she hadn't plugged in the surge protector. "Mystery solved," she said happily.

She went around the table, bent down, crawled over and stretched behind a huge metal tool chest. The outlet was just out of her reach. She heard her phone ring but decided it could wait for a few minutes. "Come on," she said to the outlet. She had to turn her shoulders and squeeze behind the tool chest to reach her goal. "Gotcha," she said as she plugged it in. She felt the tool chest slam against her as she heard a deafening explosion.

DiNozzo was thrown to the floor and dozens of boxes tumbled on top of him. He covered his head and tried to curl into a ball. Alarms blared in the expansive space of the garage.

Once the shower of boxes stopped, DiNozzo pushed his way through them and stood. Smoke hovered in the air, making him cough, but he could see that nothing was actively burning. Smoldering debris, from what had been the table and some of the boxes, was now scattered across the cement floor. Two of the overhead hanging lights were shattered and dangled in pieces, sparks spitting sporadically. A few of the boxes were smoldering and had ripped open.

"Abby!" DiNozzo shoved more of the boxes aside, wincing as his arm protested. He glanced down at a gash above his elbow but didn't stop. "Abbs?" he yelled again.

There was another sound, as Gibbs slammed the door almost off its hinges and raced into the room. "Tony!" he yelled and raced toward the agent.

DiNozzo waved Gibbs off. "I'm fine. Find Abby." He pointed to the place the table had been.

"Abby?" Gibbs yelled. He started lifting boxes out of his way.

DiNozzo grabbed a box and started to hurl it aside, but Gibbs gripped his arm.

"Easy," he snapped. "There could be explosives in every one of these boxes." He turned around and continued digging. "Abby?"

DiNozzo careful placed the box out his way.

They moved enough boxes so they could see the front of the tool chest. Gibbs grabbed DiNozzo's arm again. "Wait," he said and tilted his head to one side like a German Shepard hearing his master's call. The alarm was blaring, but he could hear something else as well.

Muffled coughs were coming from behind the huge toolbox.

"Abby!" Gibbs and DiNozzo said in unison. They shifted their focus to a large metal tool chest overturned against the wall. There was a sea of boxes piled against it.

"Abby?" Gibbs yelled as he leaned over some of the boxes to get closer to the sound.

"Gibbs?" Abby yelled. "You gotta find Tony," she screamed over the deafening alarm.

"I'm right here," DiNozzo yelled as he continued moving boxes.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Abby said. "What were you thinking? You weren't thinking!"

"DiNozzo, kill that alarm," Gibbs yelled. He continued digging as DiNozzo went to the wall where the large red box was ringing.

When DiNozzo reached the alarm, the sound was painful in his ears. He scanned the area but didn't see anything he could use to reach the box ten feet up the wall. "Boss!" he screamed. "I can't reach it."

Gibbs paused and looked over to DiNozzo, who was covering both ears with his hands. Gibbs pulled his gun and shot the alarm three times in rapid succession leaving a tight grouping near the top where the electrical lines entered the box. The garage walls were made of eight inches of brick and cement, so there was no threat of the bullets going through.

DiNozzo dropped to the floor and covered his head.

****The alarm changed to a clanging rattle, so Gibbs shot it twice more. When the echoes from the shots stopped, the room was silent.

"I coulda done that," DiNozzo said as he opened his eyes and stood, poking one finger into his ear. He went over and started digging again.

"How could you be so stupid?" Abby said behind the toolbox. She coughed and pushed up onto her knees in the protective space the tool chest had created when it tipped over against the wall. She coughed again as she heard boxes being hastily moved. "Gibbs," she said when she saw his face appear at one end of her metal bunker. "Tony. Thank God you're okay," she added when his face peeked under Gibbs' arm.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

She sat hunched over in the confined space and crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh, no," she said grouchily. "I'm sick and tired of people being blown up, Gibbs." She shifted her weight and crawled toward him. "Especially when it's me!"

He smiled, relieved that she was stomping mad, and not blown up.

* * *

McGee turned the corner into the Washington Navy Yard and saw several armed Marines milling around at main guardhouse. There was a small traffic jam at the lowered gate. No cars were being admitted.

Ziva's eyes surveyed the scene and her focus shifted to the NCIS building three hundred yards in the distance. "No," she said in shell-shocked tone when she saw three EOD trucks, a military fire engine, and an ambulance in front of the NCIS building. She jumped out of the car and ran toward the commotion, her mind calling up images of a suicide bombing from years earlier. That bombing killed Ziva's younger sister Tali, and it still haunted her worst nightmares.

"Oh, man." McGee saw it an instant later. He abandoned the car and followed her.

"NCIS!" Ziva yelled as she sprinted toward the gate. The sound of her boots hitting the pavement echoed in her ears. She focused on the building in the distance, but her mind was on an open-air market in Hadera.

She ran across the Navy Yard, but she also saw the ruble-filled streets of Hadera. She raced past the parked NCIS cars, but her mind's eye flashed darker images and sounds. Her mind offered pools of blood still wet, but coated with dust, heard frightened people crying, and then saw a mother rocking her silent, vacant eyed son who would never cry again, and finally, she saw Tali's brand new white sneaker sitting in the center of the street undamaged. Five meters further she saw the image that still plagued her. Ziva saw her sweet, compassionate Tali, her face was pale and streaked with dark blood, but worst of all, Tali's beautiful, vibrant brown eyes were open, but empty and coated with gritty dust. Ziva was yanked out of the memory and back to the Navy Yard by the shouts of a scared young soldier.

"Ma'am?" a young Marine yelled at Ziva. "Halt!" He was not one of the regular guards and his hands shook so hard the end of his rifle vibrated.

Daniel, the regular guard saw Ziva and took action. "She's okay. Let her through," he yelled.

The new guard hadn't had time to even lower his gun before Ziva shot past him. McGee ran behind her, holding up his badge and pausing as the regular guard waved him through.

Ziva covered the remaining hundred yards to the NCIS building at a dead sprint. She left McGee behind as if he was running in three feet of tar. As she got closer to her goal, she pushed the old images away, but not before one more scene slammed into her like a fist. Seeing Tali's crumbled body had been devastating, but the memories of the Israeli medic draping a pristine yellow tarp over Tali was the image that never quite went away.

Ziva pushed down the memory and she could see the fire personnel and a group of men she recognized from the EOD all milling around in front of evidence bay entrance. She got to the building and met with another unfamiliar face. She held her badge toward him and, if he hadn't stepped out her way, she would have held her gun toward him next. She continued, shoving through the crowd and into the short underground entrance to the bay.

When she finally staggered into the evidence bay, she saw six men she knew from the EOD team. She moved toward the most senior EOD technician, but then she saw Gibbs kneeling at the furthest side of the chaotic scene. She didn't see Abby and fear stole her breath more than the long sprint had.

"Crime scene, ma'am," an unfamiliar MP said as he held up his hands as if to stop her.

"NCIS. Move," Ziva barked as she tossed her badge to him and pivoted past him.

He caught the badge, his hands shaking as if he'd just faced down a charging lion.

Gibbs turned toward the sound and cringed. "Son of bitch," he said as he realized he hadn't called her back.

"Abby?" she demanded as she stumbled to a stop in front of him.

"Everyone's fine," Gibbs said. "I didn't have a chance to call you," he said when she gave him a withering glare.

"Where?" She scanned the room seeing only destruction. Her trained eye immediately recognized where the blast originated, and her photographic memory told her there had once been a lab table at the epicenter, a lab table where Abby was sure to have been standing. "Is she alive? Do not lie to me, Gibbs."

"She's fine," Gibbs insisted. He rested a hand on her shoulder. Heat and moisture rose from her body like a racehorse after the Kentucky Derby. "She's with Ducky."

Ziva's eyes widened.

"He's checking her over." Gibbs saw the fear in her eyes. "Let's go see her," he said when he realized nothing else was going to calm her. "The building's been evacuated. Ducky set up a command center in the back parking lot."

They took the stairs. Ziva ignored her own aching wounds aggravated by the sprint across the Yard. She rushed for the stairwell door as soon as they reached the next level, but then found herself moving a bit slower as they headed toward the metal door that led outside. She wondered if Gibbs had been lying, trying to break some horrible news to her gently. She didn't think she could handle opening the door and finding Abby's broken body under a yellow tarp in the parking lot. She didn't need that image joining her nightmares of Tali.

"I wouldn't lie to you," Gibbs whispered and then wrapped a protective arm around her and opened the door to the back parking lot.

The crime scene van was several hundred feet away and Ducky was standing off to one side having a casual chat with Abby. He was holding her arm and studying a scrape on her elbow. Abby smiled when she saw Ziva, but then frowned when Ziva visibly sagged.

"Told ya' she's fine." Gibbs eased her forward.

The touch broke Ziva out of her spell. She rushed to Abby and pulled her into a hug. She closed her eyes to chase away the scenes she had been painting in her mind. "Chaton," she whispered.

"I'm fine," Abby said as she leaned into the embrace a bit awkwardly because of Ziva's Kevlar vest. She gave Gibbs a curious look and he immediately looked away. "You didn't call her?" Abby yelled.

Ziva pulled back and looked at Abby. Her fear now transformed into anger, a much more familiar emotion. "Why didn't _you_ call me?" Ziva demanded.

Abby shook her side to side. "No," she told her lover, seeing the tide of emotion shift behind Ziva's brown eyes. "I couldn't call." She motioned to the chaos around them. "We're in lock down. The phone lines were severed in the explosion and no, I couldn't use my cell." She pointed to an evidence bag filled with plastic pieces that had been Abby's phone.

That calmed Ziva's beast. "I will deal with you later," she told Gibbs as if he was a buck private and she was a very displeased three star general. "Let me look at you," Ziva said as she ran her hands over Abby's face and then gently through her hair for any sign of injury. Bits of Styrofoam still clung to her hair from the damaged boxes.

"I'm fine," Abby insisted as Ziva's hands moved over her.

"You were blown up!" Ziva yelled.

Abby smiled, despite the gravity of the situation. "Remember when I told you that?"

"This is not funny." Ziva moved her examination to Abby's limbs, squeezing each one to check for disfigurement.

"It's a little funny," Abby said with a smirk.

That earned Abby a dirty look.

"I'm okay. I promise." Abby sighed and held still to allow Ziva to continue her inspection.

Experience, from far too many bombings, allowed Ziva to scan Abby quickly and efficiently. She clinically noted that Abby's clothes had no burns or rips, and there were no pinpoint holes from flying shrapnel. She scowled when she found a scratch on the back of Abby's arm, but instantly realized it was an abrasion from scraping against something, and not from flying debris. She nodded, satisfied for the moment.

"Okay?" Abby asked. She took Ziva's chin and guided her lover's face toward her.

Ziva nodded again and then let out a shaky breath. She wrapped her arms around Abby and clung to her, not wanting to ever let her move. The relief of holding Abby was short lived.

DiNozzo came wandering up to the group. "Oh, hey, hugs for the survivors. Cool." He went to Ziva and Abby and hugged them both at the same time, rubbing their heads in a gentle noogie motion.

Ziva backed up, releasing Abby and escaping DiNozzo in one deft maneuver.

"Tony was blown up too," Abby said brightly, as if discussing a trip to Disneyland.

"You were in the blast?" Ziva asked, clearly concerned. Tony often irritated her, but she did care about him. He was a little worse for the wear. His hair was uncharacteristically messy and he too was covered in bits of Styrofoam.

He inhaled and flexed his entire body. "Yeah," DiNozzo said dismissively. "Couple'a stitches, no big deal." He twisted his arm, showing off a stark white bandage just above his elbow.

"Tony helped dig me out," Abby told Ziva. "I was pinned behind that giant toolbox and he and Gibbs had to move like an entire Radio Shack to find me."

Ziva paused, thinking how easily her world could have been destroyed by Abby's loss. She went to DiNozzo and gave a brief, but sincere hug.

DiNozzo didn't quite know what to do with his arms. "Ah, thanks, Zee. It wasn't that bad." He awkwardly patted her on the back as she pulled away.

McGee burst through the doors of the building, panting. He rushed over to his teammates "You're all okay?" He bent over, exhausted.

"What took you so long?" DiNozzo asked. "Did you find a Star Trek convention along the way, Elf-lord?"

"They wouldn't let me in the bay," McGee said, completely ignoring Tony's taunts. "I had to run around to the front of the building and come through from there." He flapped his arm toward the building. "Then they told me you were all back here."

"They allowed me to pass," Ziva said, finally beginning to feel the tension subside.

"Big surprise." McGee looked up at her. "See, you've never actually gotten to watch yourself in full Ziva the Terminator mode, holding up your badge and making grown Marines wet their fatigues." He dug into a pocket and pulled out Ziva's badge and tossed it to her. "The poor kid thought you were gonna hurl that into his skull like a Chinese throwing star," McGee explained.

"He was between me and where I needed to be," Ziva said rationally. Her eyes found Abby, the one she had needed most. Ziva smirked. "And I did actually consider throwing it at his forehead."

Abby smiled proudly.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent dealing with the fact that they had unwittingly filled their evidence bay with dozens of disguised IEDs, improvised explosive devices. Ziva's gut had alerted her to that possibility, just a few minutes too late.

The EOD team continued the lock down. That meant no work for Ducky or Abby until they could make other arrangements. The investigative team members were busy tracking the electronics, now a priority. Ziva was the exception.

She worked with the EOD. Her experience with terrorist bombs disguised to look harmless was put to good use. They dissected several of the bombs, but only after x-raying them with a small portable device. The IEDs were designed to look like normal consumer items. They were wired to explode as soon as they were plugged in, providing the ignition for the Semtex packed devices. It was an uncomplicated design, elegant in it's lethal simplicity. The victim carried it home and provided the trigger.

By the time the sun was setting, Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee had several good leads and had most of the IED plan figured out. All of the electronics were from the same shipping company. They found a suspect who worked at the docks, and he was in custody. The terrorists had stolen the items and added the explosives, intending to return them before they were shipped. If they had gotten the items into place, they would have been sent to dozens of different locations. Bombs would have killed civilians all across the country, causing total panic. People would have been afraid to go shopping, exactly what the American economy didn't need.

They had prevented a nation-wide crisis, yet Gibbs was not satisfied. Like most terrorist cells, the man from the port knew only his own mission. Gibbs had a living suspect, and he was talking. The problem was, he didn't know anything about the attempt on the Ambassador or the bombing at the park.

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Abby woke up knowing something was wrong. She was in Ziva's bed, alone. She immediately reached for the phone by the bed and dialed.

"David," Ziva said with a yawn.

"Have you slept?" Abby asked, knowing the answer.

"No, Abigail," Ziva said contritely. She moved away from the small group of technicians examining photos of the IEDs. "I meant to call."

"You did call," Abby said calmly. "Last night. You said, and I quote, _'I will be home very late.'_ This is not late," Abby said, her tone gentle, with no hint of anger. "Darlin,' it's almost five a.m. It's now past late and all the way back around to early."

"I know," Ziva said. She was dead on her feet. "Believe me, I would rather be in bed with you."

"You sound exhausted." Abby sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed.

"Yes," Ziva agreed. "I am." She sighed and rubbed the back of her necked. "But, I will be finished here soon."

"Are you taking today off?" Abby asked.

"No," Ziva had a questioning tone. "I will only have time to shower and change before I leave for the embassy."

Abby was silent. She actually pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it to confirm that it was real and she was not having a nightmare. She lifted the receiver back to her ear.

"Abby?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah," Abby said quietly. Her first instinct had been to blow her top and demand that Ziva come home to rest. She wanted to tell Ziva there was no way in hell she was going to work without any sleep. But she didn't.

"Chaton?" Ziva was becoming concerned.

"I trust you," Abby said quietly. "I don't like the idea of you working after being awake twenty four hours, but I trust you." It was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to say.

"Thank you," Ziva said. She yawned again and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. "I am not sure when I will see you next," she admitted. "I promise it will be as soon as humanly possible."

"Okay, Spy Queen." At the moment, Abby didn't like being a grown up. She didn't much like her girlfriend being a dedicated agent either. "Please be careful. I love you."

"I will," Ziva said. "I love you too." She hung up and stared down at the phone, knowing what Abby had just given her. Abby was scared, Abby wanted Ziva to go home to sleep, Abby wanted to dictate that Ziva would sleep, but more than anything else, Abby wanted Ziva to be true to herself. She sighed, amazed by the incredible woman she had somehow managed to find. She took a deep breath and was about to call the embassy for the day's itinerary when her phone rang. "David," she said into the receiver with a yawn she couldn't stop.

"Is my evidence bay empty yet?" Gibbs asked.

"No," Ziva said. "Homeland Security and the explosive ordinance team are removing the boxes one at a time. Each one must be placed into a TCV. The containment vessels will only hold a few of the boxes, so they must drive them to the demolition site in small batches."

Gibbs let out a grumbling sigh. "That's gonna take forever."

"Yes." Ziva agreed, but understood the thinking behind the action. "As you say, better safe than sorry."

"On that note, you're not going to the embassy today." Gibbs knew her well enough to know she was planning to go to her next assignment without any sleep.

Ziva assumed DiNozzo would step in for her. "Tony does not have the…"

"I'll be covering the Ambassador," he interrupted. "Go home, get eight hours of sleep, not a minute less. And yes, that's an order."

Ziva paused only a moment before her reply. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Abby climbed out of the shower. After talking to Ziva, there was no way she could get back to sleep. She wanted to call Ziva a dozen times in the half hour since they spoke. She wanted to beg her not to go work tired, but Abby was trying to be mature. And she hated it. She hastily dried off, noticing quite a few bruises that had shown up while she slept. She reached for the doorknob and let out a blood-curdling scream when the door swung open before she touched it.

Ziva leapt back, her knife instantly in one hand and her gun in the other, both weapons pointing down the hallway as if she expected an attacker behind her.

"Don't ever do that again," Abby said. She wrapped her arms tightly around the towel covering her.

"Sorry." Ziva smiled as she tucked her weapons back into place. "I know how to make it up to you," she said.

"How?" Abby moved forward and rested her arms on Ziva's shoulders.

"I am going to take a shower and then sleep for eight glorious hours," Ziva said with an exhausted sigh. "Gibbs' orders."

"That's my Gibbs." Abby hugged her and let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you, Jesus, Joseph, Mary, Luke, Mathew, John, Paul, George and Ringo," she whispered with a giggle.

"An interesting prayer," Ziva said with a yawn.

"Tony taught it to me." Abby squeezed closer.

"Why am I not surprised?" Ziva chuckled mildly.

Abby pulled back. "Shower and then bed." Abby pointed toward the shower. "Now."

"On one condition," Ziva said. She nodded to the shower. "Join me."

"You are going to sleep," Abby said firmly. She crossed her arms over her chest, and gave Ziva her most stubborn glare.

"And I will," Ziva said gently. "I need to see for myself that you are unharmed." She cleared her throat. "Please."

Abby dropped her towel. "And then to bed." She kissed Ziva on the cheek and climbed into the shower stall.

"Then to bed." Ziva's entire body relaxed.

After a brief shower and a not so brief physical exam, where Ziva made a note of each bruise that had formed overnight, Ziva went to bed. Abby actually tucked her in.

"Sweet dreams," Abby said as she kissed Ziva's forehead.

Ziva nodded. "Love you," Ziva mumbled. Her eyes fluttered closed and it wasn't long before she dozed off. Abby wanted to sit vigil, but she was needed at work. She snuck out, amazed Ziva didn't wake when she opened the bedroom door, and headed back to work. She couldn't actually enter the NCIS building, but she could work the evidence.

Gibbs had ignored the lockdown and gathered the most important pieces of evidence. He also arranged for Abby to take the evidence to the US Naval Investigative Services building in Quantico, Virginia. Abby didn't mind the hour-long drive. She did mind working in a strange lab. Still, if it gave them the missing terrorists, it would be worth it.

Ziva slept, as ordered, but returned to work with the EOD in the late afternoon. When she finally managed to make it home again, Abby was sleeping. They shared a hurried breakfast of bagels the next morning at six a.m., but both would have preferred more time together.

The explosives weren't cleared until seven a.m.; the team was back to work in their office by three minutes after seven. Gibbs was on a rampage. He spent an hour upstairs in the command center with Director Vance. They worked as a tag team, taking turns yelling at people around the globe.

"Hey, Boss," DiNozzo said when Gibbs returned to his desk. "What's the news?"

Gibbs sat at his desk. "Ghazi Nasser had a degree in Mining Engineering," he said meaningfully.

"Okay," DiNozzo said. He waited, hoping Gibbs was going to tell him why that was news.

"Mining Engineers blow things up," Gibbs said pointedly.

"So Nasser put the explosives in the stuff in his house?" DiNozzo asked. "We kinda guessed that, right?"

"And probably the ones at the park as well." Gibbs was looking through his desk.

"How does that help us?" DiNozzo asked.

"Someone at the embassy got him a student visa, and there was no mention of his degree." Gibbs scowled at his desk. "Homeland Security monitors people with certain jobs or degrees."

"And Mining Engineering is one of those?" DiNozzo asked.

"Yep," Gibbs said

"So Nasser snuck in without getting onto our watch list?" DiNozzo frowned.

"Yep," Gibbs said. He found what he was looking for and stood.

"Not good," DiNozzo said.

"Nope," Gibbs said and then headed for the upstairs.

* * *

Abby was going over the pieces of the explosive device, the explosive device that blew her up. "You're a nasty one," Abby told the sample. She was examining it under the video microscope. "You look like the trigger from the park explosion, but you're not, are you?" She adjusted the image. "There you are," she said when she saw a slightly different shade on the piece of plastic.

"There who is?" McGee asked.

"Don't do that," Abby said as she almost jumped onto the counter with the video screen. "I was blown up. That makes a person a little jumpy."

"I can see that," McGee said. "Maybe you shouldn't have this." He was holding a Caf-Pow.

"You know, you guys need to find a new bribe." Abby put both hands on her hips. "Am I that predictable? Don't you ever just think, gee what I can bring Abby… who was just blown up?" She pointed at him. "What might put a smile on her little blown up face?"

"Your face wasn't blown up," McGee pointed out.

Abby glared, silencing him. "You should be asking, what can I bring the brilliant woman who has everything?"

"Well, I know what to bring you." McGee placed the Caf-Pow on the table, and saw two other Caf-Pows on the counter across the room.

"Really? And just what should you bring me?" Abby asked.

"That's easy." He smiled. "Ziva. But she's busy, so… Caf-Pow."

"Why aren't you with Ziva at the embassy?" Abby asked suspiciously. "Did you abandon her?"

"Hey." McGee was obviously offended.

"Okay, so that was ridiculous," Abby admitted. "But this sample is making me crazy."

"Well, the Caf-Pow isn't helping. I guess I need my secret weapon." McGee went to the door of Abby's lab and swung it open.

Ziva walked into the room. "I have not been blown up," she promised.

"Tell me you're off the embassy detail." Abby ran to her lover and hugged her.

"No," Ziva said quietly. "We have to return a later."

"I feel like I haven't seen you in days," Abby said as she pulled Ziva even closer. "Oh, you feel so good." She wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon. They had slept together the night before, but only slept.

"You know, I should probably leave," McGee said as he went to the door. Neither Abby nor Ziva even acknowledged him. "Yeah. Bye," he said as he left the room. Once he was alone in the hall, he glanced back toward the lab. The two women had eyes only for each other. He smiled and went to the elevator.

Abby let out a slow exhale, like a sleepy kitten resting contentedly in the sun. She had her Ziva and nothing else mattered.

"Have you had lunch?" Ziva eased Abby away from her. Her sable eyes had a dangerous sparkle.

"No," Abby said, drawing the word out as a huge grin spread across her face.

"No emergencies?" Ziva asked and then bit her lip and took a moment to polish her fingernails against the palm of her other hand trying to look casual.

"No, just this pesky triggering device, but it's not giving up any info." Abby's eyes filled with mischief. "Why?" she asked excitedly. She bounced up and down on her toes.

"Hmpt." Ziva reached into her pocket and removed an electronic door key and held it out to Abby. "Oddly enough, I do not have to report to the Ambassador's residence for two and a half hours." She pressed the key into Abby's hand.

Abby's eyes widened and stared down at the key.

Ziva leaned forward and used her thumb to rub Abby's lower lip. "I will be… having lunch in twenty minutes." She paused and then lifted Abby's chin with two fingers. "Savoy Suites, room 704."

Abby's jaw dropped.

"Interested?" Ziva asked with a smirk.

Abby nodded. "704."

"Let yourself in," Ziva whispered. She leaned forward and left a quick kiss on Abby's lips and then spun and left the room. "Hurry," she said over her shoulder as the door closed.

It took Abby a moment for her brain to reengage. "Oh, man." She grabbed the phone and dialed. "Gibbs, Abby. I'm going to lunch." She grabbed her things from the desk. "Yes, me, leaving for lunch, and before you ask, I know I haven't actually taken a lunch off the premises for over a year, but I digress. I'm taking lunch." She smiled wickedly. "A long lunch. Two hours. So, unless some huge emergency comes up, I'll see you in two hours." Abby hung up before he could get a word in edgewise. She logged off her computer, exited her lab, locked the doors, and then sprinted for the elevator.

Seventeen minutes later, Abby was exiting the elevator on the seventh floor of the Savoy Suites. She went to room 704 and tapped before opening the door. She wasn't about to ruin their lunch by surprising Ziva and getting shot. "Ziva?" Abby asked tentatively.

"Come in," Ziva said in the distance. "Lock the door and put the chair under the door handle.

"Okay, my little Spy Queen." Abby chuckled and she did as Ziva instructed. "All secure. Now what?" She turned and didn't see Ziva in the small sitting room. She did see a door to a separate bedroom and smiled. "Nice," she whispered in approval.

"Take off your clothes and join me," Ziva said from the other room.

Abby stripped and tossed her clothes onto the couch. "I am liking this bossy girlfriend," Abby said as she came through the door. "Wow," she said as soon as she saw Ziva in the bedroom.

"Come, mon Chaton." Ziva was sitting in a small hot tub next to a window that overlooked the city. She was naked, leaning back against the side of the tub with the water reaching a few inches above her breasts. Several covered lunch trays sat on the tiled surface on one side of the hot tub. "Hurry, before your lunch gets cold." Ziva held out her hand.

Abby quickly went past the large bed to the side of the hot tub and stepped down into the water. "Oh, that's nice," she said as the steaming water met her skin.

Ziva stood and guided Abby so she was facing forward, with Ziva behind her. "Sit with me," she said as she pulled Abby downward until Abby was in front of Ziva between her legs.

"This is even better," Abby said as she leaned back using Ziva as a backrest. She looked to her right and noticed a Caf-Pow. "Okay, I am impressed." She turned and gave Ziva a slow, sensual kiss. "Very impressed," she added and then took a sip of her drink.

"I have an old friend who works here. He owed me a favor." Ziva reached her hands around Abby, hugging her tightly. "I got a 'hinky' feeling at the embassy," she whispered.

"Well, remind me to book us a room here the next time I get a hinky vibe," Abby replied. She looked over at the covered trays and bit her lip, suddenly curious as to what Ziva had ordered for them.

"This hinky feeling," Ziva continued. "I, well, I felt that something was about to go very wrong," she said as she rested her chin on Abby's shoulder. "It made me… I just wanted… needed you to know how much you mean to me."

Abby stiffened and then slowly twisted in Ziva's arms until she was on her knees on the bottom of the tub instead of sitting on the seat. "I don't like that kind of hinky vibe," she said, suddenly focused completely on her lover.

"Everything is fine," Ziva promised. She draped her arms around Abby's neck and pressed their foreheads together. "But it reminded me to never waste time."

Abby smiled, forcing herself to relax. "Okay, I'll take your word for it." She glanced down, enjoying the view. "So, what are we having for lunch?" She licked her lips and lowered a hand to trace Ziva's breast.

"If you keep that up, lunch will be very cold when we get to it," Ziva said. She arched her back to give Abby better access.

"Hmm," Abby said thoughtfully. "If we eat lunch first, then we can take our time with dessert." She lifted her gaze so she could look into Ziva's brown eyes. Her pupils were almost completely dilated with arousal. "Have you eaten today?"

"Just the bagel this morning," Ziva answered. Her eyes were locked on Abby's lips.

"Not acceptable," Abby said sternly. She spun back around and leaned into Ziva's embrace on the seat. "What's for lunch?"

"Ugh!" Ziva let out a sound of mock protest.

"You need to be fully nourished," Abby insisted. She twisted her head and waggled her eyebrows. "I intend to wear you out."

One side of Ziva's mouth curled up. "Well, in that case, I agree." She reached around Abby and lifted the cover off of a tray revealing two plates of wild mushroom tortellini and cream sauce. "You will like this," she promised. She took the fork, stabbed a tortellini, and fed her lover.

"That is sinfully good," Abby said around the pasta. She reached out and grabbed a tortellini with her fingers and passed it back to Ziva.

"Wow," Ziva said as soon as she tasted the food. She held Abby's wrist long enough to lick the sauce from her fingers.

"I gotta' tell you, this is the best lunch I've ever had," Abby said as she picked up the plate and leaned against Ziva's chest. She took turns feeding Ziva bites of pasta over her shoulder and then taking some for herself. "This is certainly the best seating arrangement."

"I agree," Ziva said. She was enjoying the heat of the water draining away her stress and the completely different heat caused by the feel of Abby's body pressing against her.

"What's in this one?" Abby lifted the last tray lid and gasped when she saw tiramisu and a chocolate fondant with raspberries. She turned Ziva. "Okay, so you totally know that you're gonna let lucky, right?"

"I already have." Ziva leaned forward, twisting Abby a bit, and they shared a slow, loving kiss. "Save some of that chocolate for later." Ziva wiggled her eyebrows and grabbed a raspberry and popped it into her mouth.

Abby cleared her throat, suddenly overcome with emotion. "You say such beautiful things," Abby whispered. "Do they teach you that in spy school?" She was smiling, but a part of her wasn't joking.

Ziva shook her head. "What they taught me is meaningless… deceit, lies, false words." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Abby's. When she pulled back, her eyes shined with unshed tears. "You have taught me to love, Abby. Do not ever doubt how much I feel for you."

"You're gonna' make me cry," Abby said, her voice cracking. She twisted around so she was again on her knees facing her lover.

Ziva shook her head and smiled. "Not if I can help it." She leaned forward and pulled Abby closer. The water splashed up when their bodies collided. They kissed with abandon, hands roaming skin made slick by the water. Skin, made sensitive by the heat of the water, tingled as fingers explored. The desserts were forgotten as Abby and Ziva's passion for each other consumed them. Later they moved to the bed, but only after their enjoyment of the water threatened to end up with one or both of them drowning. There were no emergency calls and, for once, the universe conspired in the lovers' favor. They took advantage of every minute.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Ziva walked alongside the Ambassador as they approached the limousine. They were on the embassy grounds, but her eyes darted in each direction looking for any sign of danger. The Ambassador went around the limo, against all protocol, and studied a beautiful rosebush covered with white blooms just beginning to open.

Ziva rushed to his side and placed herself so she could shield him from any shots that might come from the street in the distance. "You should get into the vehicle. This area is too exposed," she said as she eyes scanned the grounds.

The Ambassador was not impressed. He pointed to the tender blossoms beginning to open. "This rose is from my family's farm in the Northern Negev of Israel," he said proudly to Ziva. "It is called _Jonina_ , after my mother."

"Little dove," Ziva said politely, translating the meaning of his mother's name. "It is quite beautiful. Now, in the car," she ordered. She rested a hand on the Ambassador's back, edging him along. His habit of ignoring her security measures was aggravating. She met Har-El's eyes. He was at the door of the limousine with Major Alon waiting for the Ambassador. Three Israeli embassy guards stood next to them, all at attention.

Ziva nodded to Har-El as the security chief opened the back door of the limousine. Movement caught Ziva's attention. She turned and saw a short Marine in dress blues at the main entrance of the embassy thirty feet away. His build was familiar and Ziva reacted on instinct.

"Gun," she yelled when she saw the short Marine pulling his service weapon. Everything seemed to happen at once, people moved, bodyguards rushed to cover the ambassador, and weapons were drawn. Ziva used her left hand to grab the Ambassador by the scruff of the neck and bent him low while she used her body as a shield. She rushed him toward the car with her left hand and her right hand drew her weapon. She took aim and fired two shots, so close together they could be mistaken for one, just as the Marine's gun muzzle flashed once. She was knocked to the side as the security men hurried to cover the Ambassador. Har-El hurled the Ambassador into the limousine and covered him with his own body. The other men stumbled into an awkward pile like a rugby scrum as they tried to cover the Ambassador's retreat.

McGee reacted as soon as he saw Ziva's body tense, even before she yelled. His eyes followed her line of sight and he was sprinting toward the suspect. When the Marine imposter's gun came up, McGee drew his weapon, but the suspect fired before McGee could get off a shot. He stopped abruptly when he saw the shooter drop to the ground. There were two round spot of blood overlapping each other between the man's eyes, attesting to Ziva's deadly marksmanship. McGee moved closer, and aimed his weapon at the downed man. He kicked the Marine imposter's gun away from his motionless hand. The blood drained from the wounds and, even as McGee checked the downed man's pulse, he knew the suspect was dead. Ziva's shots had found their mark.

"Clear," McGee yelled. He turned toward the car and saw that security chief Har-El was pulling the Ambassador out of the opposite side of the limousine. The security detail was untangling from the human pile they had formed to shield the Ambassador. Ziva stumbled out from under two well-muscled guards and rested her right hand on top of the car, taking in gulps of air. She was apparently winded from the scramble to get the Ambassador to safety. Her left hand held her gun limply at her side. McGee looked up at two Israeli officers who he'd spoken to earlier. "Secure the scene," he told them and then jogged over to Ziva. "Nice shooting," McGee said as he looked to the embassy where Har-El had moved the Ambassador inside the building.

Ziva was bent over, and her back shook as if she were laughing and then her gun clattered to the ground.

McGee tilted his head to one side. "Ziva?" He had never seen her drop her weapon, ever.

She coughed weakly, pressing her right hand to the side of her body. She stood, then staggered, falling forward against McGee. She let out a gurgling cough, sending a spray of blood onto his chest. She gripped his jacket with both hands as her legs gave out and she slid to the ground.

"I need some help over here!" McGee yelled. "Officer down," he screamed. He positioned Ziva on her back and roughly yanked her jacket open. "Ziva, where are you hit?" He ripped open her Kevlar vest, pulling the Velcro straps loose at the four points of connection and tossing the chest plate aside. "Oh, God," he said when he saw the entire right side of her white dress shirt soaked with blood. He ripped the shirt open sending the buttons flying. "Get an ambulance!" he yelled as the Israeli guards rushed toward him.

Ziva's eyes were half closed and she tried to speak, but only managed to start coughing uncontrollably. Each rattled exhale sent a burst of bloody droplets into the air.

"Shh," McGee said as he cradled her with one arm and pressed his other hand to the river of blood pouring from her side. Even through his jacket and vest, he could feel the wet sensation of cooling blood gathering on his skin. "Ziva?"

She shook her head and looked toward the embassy and fought to speak but couldn't get a breath without struggling. Each time she managed to get any air into her lungs, she would cough sending another bloody spray onto his chest. She was pale and the skin around her lips was beginning to shift from white to blue. Her eyes darted toward the embassy.

"He's safe," McGee said. "Just try to relax."

She shook her head weakly. Each desperate breath was punctuated by a sickening sucking sound from her side. She slapped one hand awkwardly behind her.

McGee glanced and saw her knife abandoned on the pavement next to the Limo door. "It's okay, I'll get it." It was just like her to pull every weapon possible when the attack had begun.

Ziva gripped McGee with both hands and pulled him toward her face. She fought to take a breath and then her eyes rolled back into her head as she went limp. Both of her hands flopped onto the pavement.

McGee spun as two EMTs from inside the embassy rushed to Ziva's side. He stood to get out of the way and dialed his phone. His hands were slick with Ziva's blood and his fingers shook. He watched the medics work. Ziva's skin was ashen, turning whiter with each second. Her breathing was reduced to labored wheezing followed by coughs and sputters. The medics put an oxygen mask onto her and the next cough covered the inside of the mask with a splatters of blood. Despite the oxygen, her face still had a blue tint.

McGee took another step back and picked up Ziva's knife and tucked it into his jacket, then reached for her gun. He cringed as he picked it up. It had landed in a pool of Ziva's blood and was sticky in his hand. As soon as the caller answered, McGee shakily spoke. "Boss, it went bad. The Ambassador's safe, but it's really bad."


	6. Close Protection Officer 21-24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before the events of the finale of season six. You can read up on the cast and the show @ http://www.cbs.com/primetime/ncis/bio/

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

Abby sat at her desk and stared at the computer monitor. Data was streaming across the screen, the alert alarm was beeping insistently, but Abby continued to stare. Her eyes were glossed over and she couldn't wipe the smutty grin off her face.

"Hey, Abbs," DiNozzo said as he came into the room. "Whoa, serious computer beeping going on there."

"Hey, Tony." Abby turned and waved at him as she continued to twirl with the chair in a slow lazy circle.

"Beeping," DiNozzo said, pointing at the computer.

"Oh, yeah," Abby said and then sighed as she poked a few keys silencing the alarm. "Got a hit on some prints on those bullets." She glanced at them. "A boring guy in Virginia. No record. Prints are on file because he's a teacher. American History. Bor-ing."

"Okay, something is up," he said.

"Ya' think, DiNozzo?" Abby said in an inaccurate, but humorous, impersonation of Gibbs. She giggled and looked away.

"Ah, yeah, I do." He stared at her a moment longer, then his eyes widened. "You took a long lunch today," he said as he grabbed the chair and spun her to face him. "Did you get drunk at lunch?" he accused. "Gibbs is gonna kill you." He was smiling broadly.

Abby swatted him. "Of course not." Her jaw dropped as she swatted him three more times in rapid succession. "I would never come to work after drinking."

"Hmm." DiNozzo leaned down and studied her. He noticed the extra energy, the flushed appearance, and the… hickey near the tattoo on her neck. "Oh. My. God."

"What?" Abby smiled despite her best attempt to keep her expression normal.

"You had a naughty rendezvous," he accused. "With the new crazy boyfriend."

"I swear to you, I did not have any kind of rendezvous with a crazy boyfriend." Abby crossed her heart and then held three fingers up. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a girl scout," DiNozzo pointed out. "Maybe a naughty school girl, with those skirts you wear. Grrr." He made a tiny growling noise and waggled his eyebrows. He raised one finger in the air. "Now, Probie, he was a boring boy scout." He frowned. "And yet he gets the exciting assignment at the cool fancy parties," he said dejectedly.

"They may not be as fun as you think," Abby said with a smile. "Ziva said two ambassadors grabbed her butt." Abby laughed low and deep.

"I know," DiNozzo exclaimed with glee. "I would've loved to see that," he said wistfully. "Man, who would be dumb enough to grab Ziva's ass? I'm amazed they lived through it." He smiled broadly. "Bet she went all ninja Mossad on them." He gave Abby a dangerous scowl. "I can kill you twenty ways with this toothpick before your body hits the floor," he said imitating Ziva's accent.

Abby smiled, thinking about grabbing that particular part of Ziva's body earlier. She almost sighed at the memory, but quickly cleared her throat and kept her expression normal. "I'm sure McGee and Ziva are bored to death."

"Yeah, well, I should be the one bored to death," DiNozzo complained.

The lab door burst open and Gibbs jogged into the room. "DiNozzo, get the car." He grabbed Abby by the arm and then turned to DiNozzo. "Now!"

"What's wrong?" Abby asked.

DiNozzo was torn between heading to get the car and hearing what had Gibbs so upset. He backed slowly toward the door.

"McGee called." Gibbs eased Abby into her chair. "There was an attempt on the Ambassador." He squeezed Abby's arms gently. "Ziva was hit."

DiNozzo bolted into the hall and sprinted to get the car.

Abby quickly stood, actually pushing Gibbs a few feet. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"Not good," Gibbs said with a sigh.

Abby's eyes widened and her face went pale.

"She's alive," Gibbs quickly said. He guided her back to the chair. "They're taking her to Howard University Hospital trauma center."

"Trauma?" Abby paled even more, but she sighed, gathering her reserves. "We need to go to the hospital. Now." She swallowed and let out another sigh, willing her head to stop spinning.

"You steady now?" Gibbs asked gently.

Abby nodded and stood. Gibbs wrapped an arm around her and hurried toward the stairwell. Abby pulled away and managed to take the flight of stairs at a dead run. She jumped over the last two steps and sprinted to the door leading outside to the parking lot. Gibbs came through the door as tires squealed. DiNozzo pulled up in a silver sedan.

Abby jumped into the backseat and Gibbs opened the driver's side door. DiNozzo slid over quickly, but still almost ended up with Gibbs on his lap as the older agent jumped in and slammed the car into gear. Abby and DiNozzo both grabbed for their seatbelts as they were tossed back.

"Boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"Get McGee on the phone," Gibbs said. The car sent sparks across the pavement as they went over a speed bump at forty miles an hour. He flipped a switch and the red lights and siren came to life. "I need an update." When McGee first called, he had only told Gibbs that the Ambassador was safe and Ziva was shot and then hung up to follow Ziva to the hospital.

DiNozzo dialed, his fingers shaking as the car zoomed past the guardhouse and onto the road. He waited nervously, afraid it would go directly to voice mail. "Probie?" he said when McGee answered.

"Tony," McGee said quietly. He was leaning against the window inside a Marine patrol car on the way to the hospital. The officer driving had been at the embassy and was now speeding across town. "God, Tony," McGee's voice broke.

"How is she?" DiNozzo asked. He had only heard that tone in McGee's voice two other times: after Kate and after Jenny.

Abby was gripping the seat behind DiNozzo, both to keep her balance as Gibbs shot through the city and to keep from screaming like a lunatic crazed with worry.

"Tim?" DiNozzo said quietly.

"There was a guy dressed as a Marine," McGee whispered. "She recognized his build from the missing uniform. He fired at the Ambassador. It was over before I could even get a shot off."

"Tim, how is she?" DiNozzo asked gently.

McGee looked down at his lap, trying to gather his racing thoughts. His gaze stopped on his jacket. Ziva had suggested a lightweight undercover vest and McGee had picked one up that morning. He put it under his dress shirt and was thrilled with the new look, but the jacket had come open during the turmoil at the embassy. The dress shirt was now stained and splattered with copious amounts of blood, Ziva's blood. He leaned over and vomited out the window of the patrol car.

DiNozzo pressed the phone to his forehead and sighed.

"Well?" Gibbs demanded.

"Give him a minute," DiNozzo said gently. "He's losing his lunch right now."

Abby slumped back against the seat. She was about to lose her lunch as well. The lunch she had eaten in the hot tub, with Ziva's naked body wrapped around her, making her feel more loved than she had in her entire life. She opened the window and let the air rush in as the car barreled through traffic lights.

McGee coughed and wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. "She got the Ambassador into the car," he said, then coughed and spit out the window. "I thought she was fine, but… a guy dressed as a Marine took a shot."

"Tim, I need you to tell me how she is," DiNozzo said a bit more forcefully.

"Tony, they were tubing her when they put her in the bus," McGee said. He had felt completely helpless watching the EMTs load Ziva into the ambulance. She was pale and as still as a corpse, her chest only rising when the EMT squeezed the ventilation bag. As the doors closed, he had seen a paramedic stabbing a large needle into her chest.

DiNozzo closed his eyes. "But she was alive," he said quietly. "That's good."

"We're at the hospital," McGee said. "I'll call back when I know more." He hung up, thanked the Marine for the ride, and then jumped from the car and ran toward the emergency entrance.

DiNozzo hung up the phone. "He just got to the hospital." He looked at Gibbs. "He's gonna see what he can find out and call back."

"Call him back, now," Gibbs ordered. "I need to know what the hell happened. We've got an agent down, an assassination attempt, and I don't even know if we have a suspect in the wind."

"Tony, what happened?" Abby asked from the backseat. She was nanoseconds from panic and needed information.

DiNozzo dialed. "It was someone in the missing Marine uniform," he said as he raised the phone to his ear. "Ziva got the Ambassador into the car, but she was hit," he explained as he waited for McGee to answer.

Abby knew most of that already.

"Tim said they were tubing Zee when they put her in the bus," DiNozzo said quietly.

Abby didn't need to know that. She took deep breaths and focused on not puking.

"McGee," DiNozzo said as soon as the other agent answered. "We need a status report. Do we need a BOLO on any suspects?"

"No," McGee said. "He's dead."

"Dead?" DiNozzo asked. "You're sure?"

_Dead,_ the word washed over Abby like a tsunami, crushing, pounding, and threatening to drown her. "Gibbs?" she whispered as she squeezed her hands into tight fists.

Gibbs shot DiNozzo a look that demanded details.

"The suspect is dead, Boss," DiNozzo said.

"Ziva got 'em," McGee said. "The guy impersonating the Marine. He was the shooter and he is dead. Really, really dead. She put two between his eyes."

"The Zivanator got him." Tony cracked a tiny smile. "Two rounds right between the eyes. I gotta have her teach me how to do that." He was putting on brave front. He sent out a prayer that Ziva would be around to teach him anything.

Gibbs gave a curt nod and swung the car around a corner. He could see the hospital several blocks away. The tall brick building looked ominous, as if nothing but bad news awaited them.

"We're almost there, Tim," DiNozzo said. "Call if there's any change." He hung up and grabbed his seat belt as Gibbs maneuvered around several cars by swinging into the oncoming lanes.

Gibbs stomped the gas and covered the remaining blocks at speeds any Nascar driver would envy. The tires squealed as the car slid through the turn into the emergency entrance. They abandoned the car near the ambulance bay and rushed into the ER. They saw McGee toward the back of the busy emergency room and hurried to him.

"McGee?" Gibbs barked. He needed answers.

McGee turned and Gibbs actually took a step backwards.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked quickly, taking in the sight of the blood covering his shirt. He grabbed McGee and squeezed his upper body looking for any injury.

"What?" McGee asked. He looked down at his own blood caked hands and then at his shirt. "Oh, yeah. It's not mine." He tapped his chest and the thud of his finger hitting the Kevlar vest underneath proved his point.

Abby walked directly in front of Gibbs and stared at McGee's chest. Her trained eyes read the blood spatters like an official description of a crime scene. "Expiratory Blood spatters," her voice was hollow as she pointed at McGee's chest. It looked like fine red mist had been sprayed onto the white fabric. Some bigger spots were scattered across the area in overlapping spatter patterns as well. "That blood's diluted," Abby said clinically. "Saliva or sputum." She looked into McGee's eyes. "She was coughing up blood. Coughing a lot, hard."

McGee nodded.

Abby's eyes fixed on the large stain covering one side his belly. "Her blood soaked into your shirt," she said. She lifted her gaze and looked into his eyes. "You were holding her." Abby's voice cracked.

He nodded again and took a step back.

Gibbs ran his hand through his hair. "What the hell happened?" he asked in a hushed whisper. He grabbed McGee and pulled him into an empty hallway.

"She was getting the Ambassador into his car, coming out of the embassy, so it was supposed to be secure." McGee looked at Abby. His eyes were full of pain. He mouthed, _'I'm sorry.'_

"Obviously it wasn't secure," Gibbs said as a way to make McGee continue.

McGee shook his head. "No. No it wasn't." He looked toward the curtain.

"Is she in there?" Abby asked. She had assumed Ziva was off in surgery and that McGee was hanging around waiting for news.

"Yeah," McGee said absentmindedly.

Abby bolted for the curtain.

"Abby, wait," Gibbs yelled, running after her. He didn't intend to stop her, but he didn't want her to be alone.

As soon as Abby pulled the curtain aside, she stumbled, her legs suddenly weak. She felt Gibbs' arm around her waist holding her up. Ziva was on the table, her shirt and bra either pulled or cut off, exposing her upper body. She had a tube down her throat that was attached to a ventilation bag and that bag had an oxygen tube attached to the wall

The doctor moved closer to Ziva and pressed his fingers to her neck. "Her veins are distended. The cath placed in the field isn't letting enough air out. I'm prepping the second intercostal space," he told the nurse as he squirted a betadine solution onto Ziva's right side where a needle with a valve attached was already taped. He yanked it out. "Get me a 14G cath." He held out his hand and took a catheter threaded in a large needle. He felt for Ziva's rib and then pressed the thick needle above the rib and through the chest wall. A hissing sound escaped as soon as the needle broke through into the thoracic cavity. He pulled the needle out, leaving the large catheter in place, which he promptly taped down.

"Let's get a chest tube in," the doctor said. He leaned over her with a scalpel poised at her rib. Abby watched as the scalpel made a short incision and then a nurse was there with a length of tubing that was shoved roughly into the cut.

Abby gasped and stepped forward.

"Easy," Gibbs whispered. "It'll help her breathe."

Blood gushed through the tubing and into a clear rectangular device that quickly filled halfway. A nurse was still forcing air into Ziva's body with the ventilation bag.

With the pressure relieved, Ziva coughed against the tube in her throat.

That brought Abby's attention to Ziva's face. It was covered by the clear, or what had been clear, tubing attached to a large ventilation bag. The tube was coated with red overlapping spots, obviously from many repeated bloody coughs.

Ziva was pale, especially her chest, which looked almost as white as the sheets on the bed.

The doctor adjusted the chest tube and then lifted the pressure bandage on Ziva's side. Blood poured onto the table and the wound started making a horrible sucking sound with every breath. He pressed his gloved hand onto the injury. "Get me an occlusive dressing, now." His tone was sharp.

Abby gasped.

The doctor finally noticed Gibbs and Abby. "You can't be in here," he said without moving his hand from Ziva's side.

Gibbs flashed his badge. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. That's my agent." He pointed at Ziva with his badge while holding Abby against him with the other arm. He was all that was keeping her on her feet.

The doctor nodded, but seemed unmoved. "I'm Doctor Howard. I'm sorry, but if you're not family, I can't tell you anything." He took a bandage from the nurse and pressed it over the wound. The dressing was designed to be water and airtight. As soon as the dressing sealed, the sucking sound stopped. He moved his hands to Ziva's neck and nodded, pleased with what he saw. "Neck veins are returning to normal." He sighed and looked at the monitors. "I want that rate down."

"BP's still in the basement," the nurse said as she started an IV.

"Get some fluids in her and see if that helps. Where's the crit?" he asked.

"The lab's backed up," the nurse said. "But they're putting a rush on it."

The doctor nodded and backed up a bit, then realized Abby and Gibbs hadn't moved. "Officer, you need to leave."

Gibbs gave Abby a squeeze and moved her forward a bit. "This is Abby Sciuto, Officer David's domestic partner."

If Abby hadn't already been about to faint, that statement would have made her whip her head around in shock. As it was, she was far too upset to react.

The nurse next to Ziva adjusted the tubing in her throat. "Her O2 stats are coming up," the nurse said quickly. "She's still cyanotic, but the saturation's up to 91 percent on two liters of O2. The damn BP's not coming up. She's hypertensive, 70 over 50."

Dr. Howard looked at Abby skeptically, and then glanced over his shoulder at the nurse. "What's her rate?" he asked.

"Coming down," the nurse said as she glanced at the monitor with numbers dropping more each second. "But still tachy at 140."

"Her domestic partner?" the doctor asked Abby. "Is there a new Naval policy I should know about?"

"Abby's a civilian," Gibbs said angrily. He realized that a Naval officer claiming domestic partnership rights wouldn't be logical. "Officer David is an Israeli national."

Dr. Howard looked at Abby more closely. He'd seen enough spouses to recognize the shell-shocked expression she was wearing. He stepped forward and looked at Abby reassuringly. "Why don't we move you to the family waiting area?" he said quietly. "It looks worse than it is."

"Well, it looks pretty damn bad," Gibbs said gruffly.

"How is she? Shouldn't you stay with her? Why are you leaving her?" Abby's voice got louder with each question.

"Abbs, take a breath… and hold it," Gibbs said gently.

"How is she?" Her eyes locked on the doctor's and her desperation was obvious. "You can talk in front of him," she said as she pointed to Gibbs. "You have my permission."

"She has a punctured lung," the doctor said. He was leading them away from Ziva's bed. Abby was pale and he didn't want to deal with a fainting spouse in the middle of a trauma. "It caused a tension pneumothorax. That's when air leaks into the chest putting pressure on her lung. When that happens, the lung can't inflate."

Abby gasped. She knew exactly what the diagnosis meant.

The doctor saw Abby's body stiffen, so he quickly explained. "As soon as we removed the air in her chest with the catheter and got the blood out with a chest tube, her breathing improved." He glanced back, checking the monitor before looking back at Abby. "We're concerned because she was hypoxic in the field."

"Not enough oxygen," Abby said as she nodded her head. She wrapped her arms around her chest tightly.

"Yeah," the Doctor said. "The EMTs relieved the pneumothorax in the field, but we just had to do that again. We're worried about her low blood pressure and high heart rate. It's probably from the tension pneumothorax. When the air escapes the damaged lung, the lung gets displaced and can put pressure on the veins taking blood to the heart. That interrupts the BP and pulse. She seems to be stabilizing."

"Her venous return is compromised," Abby said nervously. She understood the mechanics of venous return, that by restricting blood returning to the heart, the blood pressure would drop, forcing the heart to pump faster to try to self-correct. "So she's fixed now?" she asked hopefully.

"She's got hole in her lung." The doctor guided Abby further away from the curtain. "Air is leaking from her lung every time she breathes. We're also worried the knife may have nicked the liver, or that the lung won't stop bleeding," he explained. "In either case, we'll have to go in and repair the wound.

"The liver bleeds a lot," Abby said hollowly. She had heard Ducky talk about the dangers of an injury to the liver on several occasions.

"Yes," the doctor agreed. "Which is why we're running a crit, a hematocrit, to find out if she's still bleeding internally."

Abby nodded. "I know what a crit is," she said quietly. She knew that it measured the percentage of packed red blood cells in a sample of blood. A lowered crit could signal severe or prolonged bleeding.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "I thought she was shot," he said as he took a step closer.

"That was our initial thought when we got the call," the doctor said with a nod. "As soon as we saw the injury, we knew it was a stab wound."

"How is that possible?" Abby asked.

"I don't know," the doctor said with a shrug. "All I know is, that's a knife wound. We x-rayed and did an ultrasound making sure she wasn't shot too. There's no trace of any bullet and the wound pattern is consistent with a double sided blade."

"Stay with her," Gibbs told Abby. He spun and headed toward the waiting area.

McGee and DiNozzo were pacing. "Boss?" they said in unison when they saw him.

"There's another suspect," Gibbs said angrily. "We need to get back to the scene and figure out what the hell happened."

"Did Ziva tell you that?" McGee asked hopefully. He didn't want another suspect, but if Ziva was talking, that was great news.

"No," Gibbs said gruffly. "She was stabbed." He pinned McGee in his gaze. "Any idea how that happened?"

McGee shook his head. "It happened so fast," he said, a bit shocked by the news. "She saw the guy dressed as the Marine and yelled that there was a gun." He took a breath to steady himself. "Then she had the Ambassador in one hand, shoving him into the limo and her other hand had her gun and she… you know, did a Ziva, shot the gunman from across the courtyard." He smiled briefly at Gibbs. "About a twenty yard shot and she dropped him with two overlapping rounds to the forehead."

"And someone dropped her with a knife," Gibbs said. "Did you see anyone near her?"

"There was a dog pile of people covering the Ambassador," McGee said. "Half of them were on top of Ziva too." His eyes shot open. "Boss, I screwed up."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, which meant 'explain.'

McGee started to reach into his pocket, but stopped. He dug in another pocket for a latex glove.

"Today, McGee," Gibbs said gruffly.

"I thought it was Ziva's," McGee said as he pulled the knife carefully from his pocket and held it out. It was covered in blood. "She pointed at it. I thought she wanted me to get it for her." He dropped his gaze feeling terrible for not understanding the situation.

DiNozzo interrupted. "So someone stabbed her while she was covering the Ambassador?"

"Obviously," Gibbs said. "We need to find out who. The last thing we need is them taking out the Ambassador."

"The last time I saw him, he had about four guys dragging him into the embassy." McGee took out his phone. "I'll let them know about Ziva, so they won't leave the Ambassador alone." He walked a few feet away to make the call, still holding the knife with the glove.

"DiNozzo, send the knife back to the lab and see if they can pull any useful prints." Gibbs nodded toward McGee.

DiNozzo hesitated. "I'll get the MP that brought McGee over take it, if that's okay?"

Gibbs nodded his approval.

"We should get back to the embassy," DiNozzo said as he looked toward the curtain. He hadn't seen Abby since she went back to where Ziva was. He hoped Abby was staying with Ziva. He didn't like the idea of her being alone. "Is she okay, boss?"

"She's improving," Gibbs said. "But there's still a lot they don't know."

McGee finished his call and returned. "The security team is holding everyone. Har-El is searching for anyone with blood on the hands or clothes." He had put the knife in an evidence bag, which he kept in a jacket pocket wherever he went.

"Let's get over there, Probie," DiNozzo said, feeling a bit better knowing that Ziva was improving.

"I'll do the questioning," Gibbs said darkly. "When we get this guy, he is ours."

McGee raised both eyebrows. He didn't think the Israelis would agree.

"He took down my officer," Gibbs said as if reading McGee's thoughts. "I don't care who I have to shoot, he's coming back to NCIS with us."

DiNozzo and McGee started behind Gibbs as he stormed out of the ER.

Gibbs stopped and pinned McGee in place. "Stay on Ziva's six. I don't want this guy trying to finish the job."

"Sure thing, Boss." McGee nodded. He handed DiNozzo the knife and then spun in the opposite direction. He crossed the ER determined to keep her safe.

DiNozzo waited, still shocked by the events, still worrying about Ziva. He looked back toward the curtains and he saw McGee duck behind one.

"Well?" Gibbs barked at DiNozzo. "You coming or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

"Coming, Boss," DiNozzo said as he rushed toward the door

* * *

McGee went to the back of the ER and moved around Ziva's curtain. He stopped when he saw Abby at the bedside. The bed was empty.

"They took her to surgery," Abby said blankly. She was standing by the abandoned bed staring at the bloodstains, discarded gauze, needle covers, and debris as if she could divine the future from them like tea leaves. "Her blood pressure dropped," she whispered. Both her hands were held in tight fists. "Her bandage started leaking." Tears ran down her cheeks. "There was a lot of blood, Timmy."

McGee wrapped an arm around her. He stood silently with her while she collected herself. "We should go to the waiting room," he said after a minute or two.

Abby sniffled and nodded her head. She didn't say anything else as McGee led her down the hall to the family waiting room.

They sat on a couch together, never breaking contact. Abby leaned against him and stared vacantly across the room without saying a word. She looked down at her fists and then opened her clinched right hand. Ziva's Star of David was coiled neatly in her palm. The medical staff had given it to her, as Ziva's next of kin.

McGee's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing. He watched as Abby opened the clasp and put the necklace on beneath her black leather collar.

Abby sniffed, trying to stop her nose from running. She sighed as she ran her fingers over the Star of David, wishing it were around Ziva's neck and she was playing with the gold necklace as she often did after making love to Ziva.

McGee knew Abby's silence showed more emotion than another person's hysterical screaming. Abby was not a silent person by nature. He tugged her closer, his concern growing.

Abby sniffled again. She tucked the necklace out of sight beneath her shirt. Tears continued to run down her cheeks. She pivoted and stretched out on the couch, resting her cheek on McGee's leg. She stayed there, not saying a word until the doctor came to find them 90 minutes later.

"She came through the procedure well," he said as he watched Abby uncurl from the couch in one fluid motion.

"When can I see her?" Abby's voice was rough from crying and her prolonged silence.

"I'll take you to the recovery room," he said. When McGee stood he focused on him. "Family members only."

McGee moved into the doctor's space. "She's a federal agent injured in the line of duty." McGee's tone held none of his usual warmth. "The people who did this could try to finish the job. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."

The doctor nodded. "You can wait in the hall by the door. Once we move her to a room, you can go in with her."

McGee nodded.

Two hours later, they moved Ziva to a private room, with Abby at her side the entire time. McGee waited in the hallway until the staff had Ziva settled in place.

The nurse paused as she left. "You can go in now," she said quietly.

"Thanks," McGee said as he did just that. He froze as soon as he opened the door, staring at the two women in front of him; one was pale and looking far too fragile as she slept, and the other was leaning toward the bed with fierce determination etched on her features.

"This is so not okay," Abby told Ziva. "When I made you promise not to get blown up or shot, I kinda assumed that you knew not to get stabbed either." She tucked a blanket over Ziva's upper body. Abby stared at her unconscious lover for a long moment, and then smoothed Ziva's hair away from her face. She cleared her throat, trying not to cry. "This injured agent thing is getting really old," she whispered, rubbing her thumb across Ziva's cheek to wipe off a smear of dried blood. Abby took a shaking breath and sat in a chair next to the bed and gripped Ziva's hand. "You need to wake up, right now." She sobbed and wiped tears from her eyes. "Please wake up," Abby begged quietly, resting her forehead on Ziva's hand as tears ran down her cheeks.

McGee moved into the room and put both hands on Abby's shoulders.

Abby turned her face only enough to see her friend. "She won't wake up, Timmy," she whispered.

McGee nodded and then knelt next to Abby, putting one hand on the small of her back and the other on her leg. "She's strong, Abby."

Abby lifted her head and nodded, but tears continued down her face.

"It's the anesthetic," McGee whispered. He leaned closer and rested his cheek on Abby's shoulder. "She'll wake up when the drugs wear off."

"Promise?" Abby asked in a tiny voice.

He nodded against her shoulder.

They sat for several minutes without moving. Finally, McGee shifted to keep his legs from falling asleep from crouching awkwardly on the floor. He stood and Abby immediately spun to see why he was no longer offering the physical comfort.

Crossing the room, he pulled a second chair over, and pushed it snugly against Abby's chair and sat. He knew Abby. Abby needed the comfort of a friend's skin. He reached over and draped his arm around her back.

Abby tilted her head and offered him a tiny smile before leaning toward the bed and resting her forearms against her upper thighs.

McGee moved his hand to the small of Abby's back. His fingers moved idly across the skin that was exposed by Abby's shirt riding up. He had loved Abby when they dated, but that love had shifted into a deep, loving friendship. His fingers continued moving, unconsciously tracing the textured skin over her tattoos. He knew Abby was like an atom, always in motion. When she had to sit still for any reason, movement across her skin calmed her. He did what he could, knowing that the only thing that would offer any true comfort was up to Ziva. She had to wake up. That worried him. He had seen Ziva's face at the scene. He had watched as her lips turned blue. Her lung had collapsed and he knew her oxygen levels had been severely compromised. He shifted his body and leaned forward and hoped that the hypoxia hadn't affected Ziva's organs.

"She's gonna be fine," Abby said quietly.

McGee tilted his head and bent down so he could meet Abby's eyes.

"I felt you get all tense," Abby said. "You were doing that worst case scenario thing."

He smiled, knowing he couldn't keep anything from Abby's perceptive scrutiny. He leaned over and kissed Abby's cheek. "Sometimes you're too smart for my own good."

That made Abby chuckle. "Bet your ass," she said quietly.

Doctor Howard came into the room and went directly to the head of the bed.

Abby and McGee sat up expectantly.

He scanned the various monitors and then lifted one of Ziva's eyelids and checked her pupil with a penlight. "She's doing well," he said without turning. He checked the other eye and then spun to face Abby. "I'll have another blood panel taken, but so far her hematocrit has stabilized."

Abby nodded, pleased with the news.

"Her oxygen levels came back up as soon as we relieved the pneumothorax," the doctor continued. "She's at 98 percent, but I'd like to keep her intubated until we're certain the thoracoscopic repair is stable."

"What do you mean?" Abby asked. "If you repaired the damage, why isn't she waking up?" She reached over and gripped McGee's hand.

"We're keeping her unconscious," Dr. Howard said gently.

"What?" Abby's eyes narrowed. "Why wasn't I told?" Sweet Abby was gone. He was now facing protective, outraged Abby. "I thought she was just anesthetized and we were waiting for it to wear off!"

"I thought you knew," Dr. Howard said quickly.

"Did you tell me?" Abby asked harshly. "No," she answered for him. "So if there's anything else I should know, you better tell me right now before I have him shoot you." She nodded at McGee.

Dr. Howard's eyes widened.

"She's kidding," McGee said hurriedly. When Abby squeezed his hand in a crushing grip, he winced. "Mostly," he added.

"We have her mildly sedated," Dr. Howard said quickly. "She's intubated, but breathing on her own. We're adding oxygen, but there's no mechanical aid. That's good," he pointed out. "Ventilators weaken the body." He cleared his throat and flipped open Ziva's chart, which he'd set on the bedside table before he began his exam. "She's stable. We repaired the damage to her lung with a thoracoscope to avoid a more invasive procedure. We left in the chest tube and a catheter with a one-way valve so any air or blood that leaks into the chest can escape."

"How long are you going to keep her sedated?" Abby asked, her tone slightly less menacing.

"There was a four centimeter gash on the inferior lateral portion of the lung," he explained.

"Lateral inferior? So, toward the outside of her body at the bottom of the lung," Abby said more to herself than to the Doctor. "That's why air was leaking into the thoracic cavity," Abby said. "But you repaired that?" So why can't you wake her up?"

Ducky walked into the room. "Because they don't want to make matters worse," he interrupted.

"Ducky?" Abby stood and rushed to the coroner and hugged him. "Where have you been?" she whispered in a wounded tone.

"I'm sorry," Ducky said sincerely. "I had to process the shooter at the embassy." He patted Abby's back. "I got here as quickly as I could." He eased Abby away and smiled. "I left Mister Palmer in charge of collecting the rest of the trace evidence so I could get over here and see to Ziva."

"So why exactly are they keeping her unconscious?" Abby demanded.

Ducky glanced to Dr. Howard and raised an eyebrow.

Dr. Howard nodded for Ducky to continue. He knew Dr. Mallard, having spoken with him on a few occasions.

Ducky led Abby back to the chair and gently guided her to sit. "The human lung is a remarkable organ." He patted Abby's shoulder and moved to the bed to check Ziva's vitals. "In a few weeks, Ziva will be taking her morning run, baring catastrophic complications of course," he added as he leaned over Ziva and lifted the blanket to check her chest tube.

Dr. Howard handed Ducky the chart. "We're monitoring the blood expelled through the chest tube," he said. "If she starts bleeding again we'll use another thoracoscopy."

"Have no fears, Abigail. The lung is actively knitting the tissue together as we speak," Ducky said as he flipped through the chart. "The chest tube will allow any minor leaks to drain and the catheter will help avoid another tension pneumothorax."

"When air puts pressure on the lung and it can't inflate?" McGee confirmed.

Ducky nodded. He raised a finger to silence McGee. "That pressure can build up and displace the other organs."

"We know this, Ducky," Abby said impatiently. "When will she wake up?"

"She needs to remain intubated until we are certain the bleeding has stopped." Ducky pointed at the oxygen supply. "If the bleeding starts again or the lung leaks air, her oxygen levels will drop immediately. We need to avoid oxygen deprivation." He glanced at McGee. "That is what caused Ziva's rapid loss of consciousness at the scene. It wasn't blood loss; it was lack of oxygen. Her injured lung would have collapsed almost immediately, and any air she did draw in leaked into the thoracic cavity and pushed the injured lung against her left lung and her heart."

"So she's all smooshed?" Abby asked as she reached over and grabbed Ziva's hand. "Her heart?"

"Not smooshed, just scooted over temporarily." Ducky rested a hand on Abby's shoulder. "It was extremely fast, I assure you. The pressure on the superior vena cava would have dropped her blood pressure like a stone and she would have quickly lost consciousness."

"Not helping, Ducky," McGee said as he watched Abby's face pale.

Ducky winced. "My apologies," he said and then cleared his throat. "The point is, the lung injury made her pass out. It wasn't a loss of blood." He squeezed Abby's arm. "She shouldn't need any further surgery and a full recovery can be expected." He turned and lifted Ziva's gown and examined the wound site.

Abby let out a sigh of relief. She glared at Dr. Howard. "You couldn't have told me that?"

Dr. Howard opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say.

Ducky rescued him. "Which leads to Ziva's sedation. You know Ziva. She would fight the tube in her throat. She needs the airway support in place and she needs rest."

Abby nodded grouchily.

"Have no fear, in a few hours we should be able to take her off the sedation and allow her to gently awaken to your lovely, smiling countenance." Ducky ran his hand over Abby's head and tugged on her pigtail. "That is the best medicine any of us can offer."

Abby smiled and rolled her eyes.

Ducky looked around the room, his eyes stopping on the door. "This private room should be a safe."

"That's why we put her at the end of this hall," Dr. Howard explained

"Of course," Ducky agreed. "That leaves only one direction for Mr. McGee to guard."

McGee nodded, wondering if he should be in the hallway, but also knowing Abby still needed him. He turned and addressed Ducky. "How could she get stabbed? She was wearing a Kevlar vest." The question had been bothering him. The vests were designed to stop bullets, stop knives, and to cushion blunt trauma.

"The vest saved her life," Ducky replied.

Abby gave him a curious look.

Ducky moved closer to Ziva and pointed to her side where the injury was covered. "I would guess the assailant had training in covert operations. Normally, a knife would be inserted further back and at a steeper angle so it would bisect the lung and penetrate the pulmonary artery. Death is almost instantaneous."

Abby squeezed Ziva's hand.

Ducky turned and focused on McGee, who looked confused. "I'd wager there is a slice in her vest where the blade first struck. The assailant probably slid the knife forward until it reached the opening at the side of the vest in the gap between the front and back armor plates. The tiny change in placement made all the difference."

Doctor Howard's face paled. He cleared his throat. "I'll leave you folks alone," he said. As he exited the room, he almost bumped into a man in a green uniform wearing a cast on his right hand. "Only two visitors at a time," he told the man. He considered Dr. Mallard more staff than visitor, so he didn't count him.

The man nodded and went toward the waiting area. He looked around and then ducked down a deserted hallway. He had hoped to find Officer David alone, or at least without a guard. He sighed, determined to wait as long as necessary.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

Har-El stood inside the NCIS interrogation room staring at his former prisoner. "An NCIS officer captured you, and they can have you," he told him.

The man at the table was wearing a pair of plain grey sweats. He had been arrested in an Israeli uniform during the first attempt on the Ambassador. The Israelis had made him change out of the uniform almost immediately. He hadn't given his name, or said anything at all. He seemed completely unfazed.

"Remain silent, or do not," Har-El said as he leaned both hands on the table. "It makes no difference now. The Americans have deemed you a terrorist." He stood and watched as the prisoner stiffened. "You are a ghost now," he whispered. "You no longer exist. Enjoy the Patriot Act," Har-El said as he walked out of the room.

Gibbs and DiNozzo watched from the observation room. Gibbs was almost completely still. Only his arm moved to lift his coffee cup to his lips.

"You know, for a fascist, illegal act, that thing comes in handy as a threat," DiNozzo said as he paced.

Gibbs sipped his coffee.

"Not like we actually snatch people off the street and erase them." DiNozzo watched the suspect squirm in his seat. "It's just a really good bluff." He turned to Gibbs and paused. "Right?"

Gibbs took another sip of coffee, but one eyebrow raised and then lowered.

"The whole men in black thing, that's just in the movies, right?" DiNozzo asked.

Har-El stepped into the observation room. "He is, how you say? Your problem now."

Gibbs nodded and slowly turned. "You find the guy with the knife?"

Har-El's face darkened, both in anger and as he blushed in embarrassment. "Not yet." He stalked closer to the window and glared at the man on the other side of the window. "He wouldn't give up his co-conspirators," he said quietly. "We have been questioning him since Agent McGee apprehended him, and then more forcefully today, after the second attempt."

Gibbs nodded and moved alongside Har-El. "Withstood quite a bit of 'questioning,' too."

DiNozzo's eyebrows knitted together like a confused border collie.

"You document those injuries?" Gibbs asked mildly. "Patriot Act won't cover my ass if anyone sees his bruises."

DiNozzo did a double take. He didn't see any bruises on the suspect. He stared a bit longer and noticed that the suspect was sitting abnormally stiff, as if he didn't want to jostle any part of his body. "They tortured him?" he asked as he spun toward Gibbs.

Gibbs let out a humorless chuckle. "No." He sipped his coffee and then stared into Har-El's eyes. "Beat him," he said quietly. "Beat the crap out him, but not torture."

"Huh?" DiNozzo asked.

"My men were a bit enthusiastic in their disapproval of his involvement with the attempt on the Ambassador." Har-El sighed. "We are not trained in the same techniques as some of our countrymen. He wouldn't even give his name. His fingerprints are not in our database."

"Huh?" DiNozzo asked again.

Gibbs rolled his eyes at DiNozzo. "He means they beat him because he pissed them off, DiNozzo. If they had a professional torture him, we'd have his embassy accomplices by now."

"Wish Ziva was here," DiNozzo muttered. "She'd get him to talk in like two seconds." He looked across the room at his water bottle. "Do you know you can drown in one tablespoon of water?" he asked in a whispered impression of Ziva.

"He'll talk," Gibbs said. He put his coffee down, grabbed a file from the table and moved toward the door.

"You want the water bottle, Boss?" DiNozzo asked as grabbed the half-empty bottle.

Gibbs paused long enough to glare at DiNozzo.

"I'll take that as a no." DiNozzo opened the bottle and took a long drink.

Gibbs opened the door to the interrogation room, and walked calmly to the table and sat in the chair facing the suspect. He opened the file in his hands. "Isam Kazmi," Gibbs read.

In the observation room, Har-el's eyes widened in surprise. "How did he find that? We ran his fingerprints and found nothing."

"Our databases are rather extensive," DiNozzo said. In truth, he had no idea how Gibbs had gotten the man's name, just that it somehow involved a call to Ziva's father. Gibbs had been reluctant to make that particular call because he didn't trust Eli David. DiNozzo frowned. Technically, the Mossad database was the one that was extensive.

Gibbs stared at the file. "So, the question is Mr. Kazmi, are you going to be a martyr and fall off the face of the earth, or are you going to confirm who your contact in the embassy is?"

Kazmi lifted his head and studied Gibbs. "You know nothing," he said arrogantly.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "I know that you were trained in southern Gaza. I know that your brother, Jalal al Din Kazmi, died wearing a Marine uniform this morning."

Kazmi's eyes flashed. He shifted his weight, wanting to speak, but he held his tongue.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I know he was a coward. He cried like a little girl when Officer David 'questioned' him," he lied.

Kazmi leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table.

"I know after he gave you up, after he wet himself like a child, he begged Officer David to stop his suffering." Gibbs smiled cruelly. "I know she was merciful and did as he asked."

"Mossad bastard!" Kazmi jumped to his feet, sending his chair scooting across the floor. "You Americans preach of justice but you have your Patriot Act. You say your hands are clean while you have your Mossad dogs do your killing for you. That bitch should have been the first to die."

Gibbs stayed seated. He now knew whoever was on the inside had planned on being close enough to Ziva to take her out first when the assassination attempt took place, and that Ziva's death had been part of the plan all along. Kazmi also knew about Ziva's Mossad training.

"Well, your inside friend hung your brother out to dry," Gibbs said in a mocking tone. "Your brother expected Officer David to be taken out of the equation." He laughed. "Guess what?" He leaned closer. "Your friend inside got scared. Afraid to make a move on David." He continued laughing. "Good thing, too. Your friend wouldn't have survived that little stunt."

"I knew he was coward." Kazmi said in disgust. He paced the room angrily.

Gibbs stayed seated. Now he knew the insider was a man.

"Israeli pig," Kazmi muttered as he shook his head in disgust.

Gibbs' gut told him that was most important thing his suspect had said so far. "And yet, your inside man gets to cut the deal. Your brother is dead, killed by a Mossad operative, a woman who completely humiliated him by ruining your plan, and you get to take a plane ride to Gitmo for the rest of your life." He chuckled. "God bless America."

"I will not deal, as you say," Kazmi snarled. "Your Israeli pig sold out his people and then sold out us, but I have honor."

"So'd your brother until David made him soil his pants." He stood and closed the file. "It's better this way. Our country prefers to keep on good terms with the Israeli military," he added, taking a risk.

"If the military can be bought, what good does that do you?" Kazmi taunted.

"Gets me the guys I'm after." Gibbs smiled and left the room.

In the observation room DiNozzo was disgusted. "Even when she's in a freakin' hospital bed, Ziva still intimidates suspects. Gibbs makes up stuff about her and these tough guys confess. What the hell?"

"She is an intimidating woman," Har-El said as if his point were obvious.

Gibbs came into the room and stared at Har-El. "Any of your guys have a beef with the Ambassador?"

"Ambition makes every ally a competitor," Har-El said. "Though most would draw the line at helping terrorists."

"What do you know about Major Alon?" Gibbs asked.

Har-El took a moment as he considered the question. "I do not like him, or trust him, but I have no evidence to suggest that he is the mole."

"My gut says he's our inside man," Gibbs said. "Let's go pick him up."

"He left the embassy hours ago," Har-El said nervously. "His hand was broken during the assassination attempt. I couldn't stop him. He is a Major. He outranks me."

"You let him go?" Gibbs wanted to the slap the back of Har-El's head.

"He went to the hospital," Har-El said.

"Where he won't be anymore," DiNozzo said grouchily.

"DiNozzo…" Gibbs began.

DiNozzo interrupted, "I'm on it, Boss." He rattled off his plan. "Get a BOLO out and have all the airports, bus stations, ferries, taxies, bicycles, pony rides and any other transportation venues locked down," DiNozzo said quickly. He rushed from the room before Gibbs could even reply.

* * *

McGee sat in a chair next to the door inside Ziva's hospital room. He glanced at the door, wondering for the hundredth time if he should move into the hallway. Abby was fussing over Ziva, whispering words of love and devotion to her, and generally fawning over the unconscious woman. It seemed far too personal, and he felt like an intruder witnessing Abby's actions. He knew it would soon get even worse. Dr. Howard had taken Ziva off of the sedative an hour earlier. She would be waking up soon, which meant he would have to witness Ziva showering Abby with affection as well. He really wanted to be sitting in the hallway.

Abby was reading to Ziva, which wouldn't seem to be an overly affectionate action, except that she was stretched out on the bed next to Ziva with the magazine on Ziva's chest. She had one hand tucked under Ziva's hair, idly playing with the soft skin at the nape of Ziva's neck, occasionally detouring to feel the lump on the back of her head from the explosion. It had receded quite a bit.

"Well, anyone could have seen this coming," Abby told Ziva. "Deaths caused by methadone have increased." Abby focused on the magazine, _The Forensic Examiner,_ and read directly from an article. "Inadvertent overdose is becoming increasingly common, likely in part because the drug's acute pain-relieving effect lasts only 4 to 6 hours, yet it has a very long and variable plasma half-life of 24 to 36 (in some studies 15 to 55) hours, is stored in body tissues, and toxic accumulation occurs with too-frequent consumption." Abby paused and looked at Ziva's face. "You know, you can wake up now. I'm really starting to freak out."

McGee cleared his throat. "Abbs, maybe reading about accidental overdoses isn't exactly a calming activity."

Abby bit her lip and considered his comment. "Probably not." She flung the magazine at the trashcan a few feet away. It hit the lip of the trashcan and fell to the floor.

Ziva shifted her weight.

"Ziva?" Abby sat up and moved off of the bed. "Ziva, come on, darlin'. Open those beautiful brown eyes."

McGee rushed to the bedside. He pushed the call button and then rested a hand on Abby's back. "Is she coming around?" he asked quietly.

Abby nodded as she watched Ziva's eyes flutter. She became concerned when she realized that Ziva was fighting the tube in her throat. "Easy," she said as she cradled Ziva's cheek in her hand. "Ziva, you're safe. It's me, Abby."

Ziva's eyes opened widely and darted from side to side. She tried to sit up, but Abby gently held her on the bed.

"You're in the hospital," Abby said as she leaned down so her eyes met her lover's. "Darlin', you need to hold still."

Ziva stopped resisting, falling back against the bed. Her eyes were locked with Abby's. She lifted her right hand, wincing as the action sent a painful jolt down her entire side.

"Try to relax," Abby said gently. "The doctor will take the tube out as soon as he gets in here," she added.

Ziva closed her eyes and shook her head. She opened her eyes and lifted her hand a bit and began to fingerspell.

"Okay, I get it," Abby said as soon as she saw what Ziva was doing. "S… E… C…O…N…D…"

"Second suspect," McGee said quickly. He was standing next to Abby.

Ziva's eyes darted to him and she nodded.

"We know," McGee said. "We're looking into it."

Ziva's eyes shifted back to her hand. She carefully began to fingerspell.

"B…R…O…K…E," Abby translated. "Broke what?"

Ziva closed her eyes and sighed in frustration, then moved her fingers again.

Abby continued translating for McGee. "H…A…N…D."

McGee lunged forward. "You broke his hand when he stabbed you?"

Ziva nodded her head emphatically.

"I'll call Gibbs," McGee said. "We'll get a BOLO out for anyone with an injured hand. Did you see who stabbed you?"

Ziva shook her head.

"I'll get this info on the wire." McGee stepped into the hallway to make his calls.

Ziva let out another sigh. It sounded odd through the tubing. She lifted her left hand and tried to grab it.

"No," Abby said quickly. She wrapped her fingers gently around Ziva's wrist. "Darlin,' you need to hold on for a few more minutes." She moved toward the head of the bed and leaned down so she was looking directly into Ziva's eyes. "Look at me. Just take slow breaths and stay with me." She saw Ziva relax slightly. "Good," Abby said with a smile.

The door opened and Dr. Howard and a nurse came into the room. The nurse saw that Ziva was awake and immediately went to the table and began gathering a few supplies.

Dr. Howard came to the side of the bed next to Abby. "You're awake," he said with a smile. "Ms. David, I'm Dr. Howard." He went to the side of the room to a small sink and washed his hands. "What do you say we take that tube out, hmm?"

Ziva nodded, but her eyes never left Abby's. Abby was her anchor. Abby's eyes were keeping her breathing steady, keeping her from yanking the tube out of her throat because it felt like it was choking her, like it was strangling her instead of saving her.

Abby moved out of the doctor's way, but she stayed close enough so she could keep her eyes locked with Ziva's. Abby clinched her teeth as she watched the doctor remove the tube. She hoped it wasn't as painful as it looked. She scooted closer as soon as Dr. Howard stepped away from the bed.

Ziva coughed, squeezing her eyes shut as pain pulsed through her side.

Dr. Howard took a plastic cup from the nurse. "Try some water. Just a sip," he suggested. He handed Abby the cup of water with a bent straw in it.

Abby guided it to Ziva's hands, steadying it.

After a few tiny sips, Ziva pushed the cup away. "Abby?" she asked. Her voice was barely more than a croak. She was focusing on the window and the dark sky outside.

"Right here." Abby squeezed Ziva's hand.

Ziva relaxed into the bed took a few slow breaths. "Mon Chaton," she whispered and gave Abby's hand a weak squeeze.

"That's right, darlin'." Abby's smile was radiant. She bent so she could kiss Ziva's hand without moving it from the bed.

The doctor stepped forward. "Let me check you, and then I'll leave you with Miss Sciuto." He smiled at Abby. "She only left your side when we took you to surgery."

Ziva's eyes widened.

"It went well," Dr. Howard said before Ziva could ask. "You came through great and I expect a full recovery." He leaned over and checked her pupils using his penlight. "I'll answer any questions you have, but right now I think you should take it easy and rest if you can." He checked her drain and pressed his fingers around the bandage over her wound. "Looks good. I'll check you later when I make rounds."

"Thank you," Ziva said, her voice hoarse.

"My pleasure," he said sincerely. "You're quite the hero. It's all over CNN." He turned and left, not noticing Ziva's horrified expression. The last thing she wanted was to be in the news.

The nurse checked the IV bag and then the back of Ziva's hand. "Just use the call button if you need anything."

Ziva nodded and the nurse turned and left.

"Please don't ever do that again," McGee asked as he came to the bedside. He was pale. He had actually retched a dry heave when seeing the doctor remove the intubation tubing. It brought back the images of Ziva's lifeless body in the ambulance.

Ziva seemed confused.

"Get stabbed," McGee clarified.

"Or shot, or blown up," Abby added. "Or hit by a car, stepped on by an elephant, fall off a roof, or fall down even a tiny set of stairs."

"How would I get stepped on by an elephant?" Ziva asked. Her brows scrunched together as she tried to imagine that scenario. She fought to keep her eyes open, but it felt like a losing battle, so she let them flutter closed.

"I don't know," Abby said. "I'm just covering all the bases." She frowned. "As a matter of fact, stay away from any animal bigger than a gerbil." She ran her fingers through Ziva's hair, needing the contact.

That made Ziva smile. She brought her left hand up and rubbed her own chest, a nervous habit when she needed to feel her necklace. It was her touchstone when times were at their worst. Her eyes opened when she realized her _Magen David_ was gone.

"It's right here," Abby said, knowing exactly what her lover was thinking. "Your Star of David."

Ziva curiously shifted her eyes to Abby.

Abby lifted the star from under her blouse. "I was keepin' it safe for you," she said.

Ziva stared into Abby's eyes. " _Magen David,"_ Ziva whispered. "It means Shield of David, in Hebrew."

" _Magen David,"_ Abby said, focusing on pronouncing it correctly.

Ziva smiled and closed her eyes. "Perfect," she whispered. She opened her eyes with extreme effort. "A gift, from my mother. I was twelve."

"For your Bat Mitzvah?" Abby asked. "Boys get the Bar Mitzvah at thirteen and girls get the Bat at twelve." She tilted her head to one side.

Ziva nodded and smiled fondly. The scope of Abby's knowledge amazed her.

"I know it's important to you," Abby said. "I can put it on you." She started to take the necklace off.

"Leave it, Chaton," Ziva said hoarsely. "It will save my place, next to your heart."

"No one else is gonna take that spot, but I'll wear it. I like having a part of you with me." Abby smiled and picked up Ziva's hand. "You should sleep," Abby said as Ziva's eyes fluttered closed.

Ziva shook her head. She forced her eyes open and glanced out the window at the darkened sky again. "How long?" she asked McGee.

"It's just after six p.m.," McGee said. "How exactly did you break the guy's hand?"

Ziva had to take another few breaths before she could speak. "I took the shots just as I felt the blade," she said. She cleared her throat.

Abby grabbed the glass of water and held the straw to Ziva's lips and waited as she took a few sips before placing the glass back on the table.

"Then what?" McGee asked. He knew that Ziva would have completely focused on her shots. The idea that she could injure an attacker at the same time amazed him.

"Tim, she needs to rest," Abby said sharply. She focused on Ziva. "You can tell us later. Sleep." Her tone was loving and laced with concern.

Ziva shook her head and turned toward McGee. She knew he needed the information as quickly as possible. "I switched the gun to my left hand. After the shot." Her sentences became choppy as her energy faded. "Shoved his hand away, so the knife… came out of my side." She was breathing heavily from the exertion of the short explanation.

Abby's eyes widened. She took a gulp of Ziva's water to calm her nerves.

Ziva started to speak, but then stopped, gathering what little strength she had. Her voice was weak, and each word drained her near empty reserves. "Pressured his wrist. Dropped the knife." She spoke as if being stabbed was an everyday part of her job. "The others, on top of me, protecting the Ambassador. Too many bodies. Could not see his face." She managed to smile weakly. "Broke his wrist."

"I can't believe you could hold anything with that injury," Abby said as she rested her hand on Ziva's chest. "How could you break his hand?"

"Heard the crunch," Ziva added proudly. "Quite satisfying."

McGee swallowed with a gulp.

"Tried to see him," Ziva whispered huskily and shook her head. Her voice was beginning to give out.

"Not to worry," McGee said with a huge smile. "When I called to tell Gibbs about the injury, he figured it out right away."

"Figured what out?" Ziva demanded weakly. She struggled to sit up, but Abby wasn't having that.

"Stay," Abby ordered.

McGee looked to Abby before he spoke. Once the protective woman nodded, he continued. "I was gonna' tell you," McGee said. "Major Alon left the embassy." McGee paused. "Seems he had to go to the hospital because he broke his wrist while protecting the Ambassador."

"Coward," Ziva said hoarsely. "I should… Gibbs." She tried to sit up again but Abby still had other ideas.

"Whoa, you're not going anywhere," Abby said quickly. She pressed her hand gently against Ziva's shoulder.

"Help Gibbs." Ziva's voice was gravelly and she winced. Just speaking made her throat feel like she had swallowed shards of broken glass. She took a deep breath, but regretted it immediately. It felt like her side was on fire.

"Gibbs is on his trail," Abby said. She guided Ziva back onto the pillow. "You are going to stay here until you're completely healed." She raised one eyebrow and gave Ziva a determined glare. "End of story."

Ziva started to protest, but then thought better of it. She knew Abby wasn't going to back down. She also knew she wouldn't get more than a few steps before collapsing. She nodded her agreement because her throat was becoming too sore to continue speaking. She let her eyes drift shut.

"That's more like it," Abby said with a triumphant grin. She turned toward McGee and puffed her chest out proudly.

"Guess we know who wears the pants in this relationship." McGee snickered.

Before Abby could respond, Ziva spoke, but her eyes remained closed. "Better with no pants."

"Uh…" McGee was torn between explaining the expression and picturing the two women without pants.

"Isn't that a better image?" Abby asked with an evil grin. "The two of us pantsless, naked skin pressed against naked skin, taking turns being in charge?"

McGee knew when a battle was lost. His blush extended from his ears down past the collar of his shirt. "I'll be waiting the hall." He dragged a chair along with him and let the door slam closed before situating the chair in position to guard the room. "Did not need that image," he muttered. He shook his head, trying to shake the erotic scene dancing through his mind.

Ziva opened her eyes and looked longingly at the door.

"Nuh uh," Abby said firmly. "You're not leaving this bed, even if I have to sit on you and tie you to the bed with a sheet."

Ziva was too exhausted to argue. She locked eyes with Abby and saw that her lover wasn't going to give an inch, so she relaxed and let out a sigh. "Fine," she whispered. "Told you. No bondage. Bad kitten." She closed her eyes to the sound of Abby's laughter and let her body surrender to sleep.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

McGee twisted from side to side in his chair. He was sitting guard, as he had been for seven hours. He had only moved back inside the room an hour earlier. It was late, and his entire body was stiff. He bent his head to one side and almost groaned when his neck gave a satisfying pop. A few feet away, Abby snorted and rubbed her face with one hand, but she didn't wake up. He smiled fondly at his former lover.

Abby was draped across a small chair that converted into a makeshift bed. The hospital had them for family members. The seat of the chair pulled out a few feet allowing the family members to stretch out. Well, most family members. At just over five feet ten inches, Abby's long frame overwhelmed the chair. She was on her side hugging a pillow, with one leg bent and pulled up like she was curling into a ball. The other leg was stretched out and hung more than eighteen inches off the edge of the small reclining chair.

McGee's cell vibrated in his pocket. He'd set it to the silent mode just after Abby had dozed off. He fumbled with the phone and stood, moving as far from Abby as possible within the confines of the small room. "McGee," he whispered.

"Why are you whispering, Probie?" DiNozzo asked as he stepped out of the hospital elevator on the second floor.

"Abby and Ziva are sleeping." McGee looked over and saw Abby beginning to stir.

"I wish I was sleeping," DiNozzo said.

McGee opened the door and stepped into the brightly lit hallway. "Next time you get stabbed, you can sleep all you like." He eased the door closed. "What's up?" he asked.

"A big fat nothin', that's what's up." DiNozzo yawned. "We've interviewed everyone at the embassy, including the damn janitor, and nobody knows where Major sneaky-pants is."

"Have you checked his apartment?" McGee yawned and rubbed the back of his neck.

DiNozzo let out a frustrated exhale as he made a left turn, then realized he'd turned the wrong way. "Gee, why didn't Gibbs or I think of that?" Sarcasm practically dripped from the words. He found the correct hall and continued.

"Sorry," McGee said contritely. "So, what's next?"

"Gibbs is back at the office. He's been teleconferencing with bigwigs on just about every continent for the last hour." DiNozzo scrunched his brow. "Except Australia. Maybe he should call them." He smiled and then spoke in a fake Australian accent. "Maybe a dingo ate my bad guy."

"Funny," McGee said drolly, clearly unimpressed by the attempt at humor.

"Yeah, well, you try coming up witty repartee after four hours of interviewing," DiNozzo said.

"Where are you headed now?" McGee asked, ignoring the complaint.

"The hospital. I'm on your floor." DiNozzo continued down a long hallway. "Who designs these floor plans, King Minos?"

"Nice reference," McGee complimented. "Except Daedalus designed the labyrinth for Minos. The King didn't actually create the mazes."

"You really can't help yourself, can you, McGeek?" There were several more twists and turns before he'd reach Ziva's room. "The nerd is just hardwired into your brain." He saw the last turn and let out a sigh. "How's Ziva doing?" His voice lost any trace of levity.

"Better, I think," McGee said. He glanced at the door, then scanned the hallway and nodded when he saw DiNozzo round the corner just past the nursing station. They'd chosen Ziva's room because it was at the end of the hall and had the least amount of traffic. McGee turned off his phone and walked over to his coworker. "She was really weak when she woke up earlier."

DiNozzo frowned. "The Zivanator, weak? She'll kill you if she hears you say that."

"She could barely keep her eyes open." McGee's concern was evident on his boyish features.

"She's tough." DiNozzo rested a hand on McGee's shoulder, a rare show of the genuine feelings he held for him. "She'll bounce back in no time."

McGee nodded and looked into DiNozzo's eyes. "I really thought she was gonna… that she… when she collapsed… Tony, I thought she was gonna die right there in my arms."

"She didn't," DiNozzo said firmly. He gave McGee's shoulder a gentle shake before removing his hand. "And you and I are gonna watch her back until she's up and terrifying suspects again." He stared at the door, wanting to check on Ziva and see that she was safe with his own eyes. "She's sleeping?"

"Yeah. Abby too." McGee turned toward the door, not wanting to wake either woman.

"Abbs been here the whole time?" DiNozzo asked.

"Yep. Never left her side. Palmer came by earlier and brought some of Abby's things from her desk in the lab. You know, magazines, a change of clothes she keeps in one of the drawers. Stuff like that." McGee wondered if DiNozzo was finally clueing in on the true nature of Abby's affections. "Palmer brought me a fresh shirt too," he added. It had been a relief to change out of his bloodstained clothes.

"Guess she and Abbs got pretty chummy while Zee was protecting her." DiNozzo looked at the door again. "I'm just gonna take a peek. See if Ziva's drooling all over the pillow or something. It'd be a great blackmail photo." He held up his cell phone. The photos he took with it tended to get sent to half of NCIS."

McGee nodded, not fooled for a moment. He knew DiNozzo was worried.

DiNozzo opened the door and the two stepped inside. The lights were off in the room, but there was enough illumination from the parking lot lights outside filtering through the window to clearly see Ziva on the bed.

DiNozzo crept closer and studied Ziva. She was breathing in short, labored, irregular breaths. The blankets were down around her waist and he could see that she was wearing a hospital gown. Even in the dim lighting, she looked pale and small, fragile like a broken porcelain doll. His eyes were drawn to the medical paraphernalia attached to her. There was an IV taped in place on the back of her hand and a bit of tubing coming out from underneath her hospital gown to a small, oval container sitting on the bed next to her. He turned to McGee and nodded toward the container.

McGee leaned close and whispered into DiNozzo's ear. "That's for drainage."

DiNozzo scowled, clearly disgusted. "Eww."

Abby let out a sigh.

DiNozzo shifted his view and smiled at the way Abby's foot was dangling in midair. He laughed quietly.

Abby heard the sound. She sat up and immediately checked on Ziva, scanning her for any sign of distress. Only then did she notice the two agents a few feet away. She smiled but didn't immediately speak. She went to Tony and gave him a brief hug, then pulled him into the hall. "Did you catch the bastard?" Her voice was gravelly from sleep.

"Ah, no," DiNozzo said. "But we will."

"You better," Abby said firmly. She looked over her shoulder at the door. She didn't like leaving Ziva alone.

McGee held back a smile at Abby's desire to return to Ziva, because it was blatantly obvious, the two were lovers. "Why don't you go back to Ziva," McGee suggested.

"I'll sit with Ziva," DiNozzo offered, clearly not quite catching on to reality. "You probably want to go home and sleep in an adult sized bed, or coffin, or whatever."

Anger and a bit of possessiveness flashed across Abby's features.

McGee moved forward. "Maybe you could cover for me on guard duty for a while?" he asked before Abby could rip DiNozzo's head off. "I need to go down to the basement to the cafeteria. I could really use a coffee."

"Uh, okay," DiNozzo said. He looked at the other agent and shrugged. "Sure. Get your coffee. I just thought since Abby's been cooped up here too, she could go home. Since, you know, she's not on protection detail."

"I'm not leaving, Tony," Abby said firmly. "And if anyone tries to hurt Ziva, you bet your ass I'm on protection detail." She reached down and pulled the folding knife out of her boot and flipped it open exactly as Ziva had taught her. She twisted it over, with the blunt side of the blade tucked along her forearm, pulled her arm back in a defensive position, and faced DiNozzo with her most lethal glare.

"Gaa!" DiNozzo took a step back. "Okay, you've spent way too much time with Ziva."

"Or just the right amount," McGee said as he wrapped an arm around Abby before she pounced on DiNozzo. "You can never have enough self-defense training." He cleared his throat and eyed the knife. "You should make sure Ziva doesn't wake up alone. She'll be worried."

"Oh geeze." Abby closed the folding knife and hurried back into the darkened room.

"Okay, seriously. What. The. Hell?" DiNozzo pointed at the door.

McGee sighed, hoping DiNozzo had finally figured out the situation.

"We're gonna' have to de-Ziva Abbs when this is over," DiNozzo said. "I don't think we want our little Goth joining Mossad."

"I'm going for coffee." McGee walked away, leaving a bewildered DiNozzo standing at door.

* * *

_'I really hate Mossad,'_ Gibbs thought as stared at the monitor on the wall. He was in the NCIS Director's control room, MTAC. On the large screen on the wall was his least favorite Mossad member, Eli David, Director of Mossad, in other words, Ziva's father.

Director Leon Vance was talking to the elder David at the moment. "Just how long have you suspected Alon might be a double agent?" Vance kept his tone polite, but his body was strung as tightly as a piano wire.

"Not so much suspected," David said dismissively. "He has been a person of interest."

Gibbs could no longer remain silent. "Ya' think you could have shared that interest with us?" He stalked forward toward the screen. "Especially since my agents were working in the embassy with the bastard."

Eli David started to give a careful manufactured lie. "It was a matter…"

"I don't care what your reason was," Gibbs yelled. "Your secrets put my agent in the hospital. You remember her? Her name's Ziva David."

Vance stood quietly as he watched Eli David's face darken with anger.

"I am very well aware that my daughter was injured when she allowed Alon to escape," David said bitterly.

"Wrong answer," Gibbs practically snarled. "She was injured while _successfully_ stopping an assassination attempt on your Ambassador."

David took deep breath before speaking. "Perhaps being with NCIS has softened her. When she was with Mossad, she would have saved the Ambassador and killed Alon by shooting him instead of just breaking his hand."

Vance stepped forward, next to Gibbs. "If she had fired blindly behind her to kill Alon, she may have just as easily hit the Ambassador or a member of his staff."

David's expression made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't have minded that particular outcome. "Yes, but the traitor would be dead as well, instead of roaming the streets outwitting your agents."

"Maybe if you'd given us your intel, we'd have him by now," Vance said before Gibbs could reply. "Maybe we'd have caught him before anyone got hurt."

"We have no real intel. Nothing concrete," David obfuscated. "A man in Alon's position is certainly kept under scrutiny, but not actually under surveillance," he lied.

"Well, why don't you send it to us and see what we can come up with," Vance said. "Unless of course, you'd rather allow a traitor to escape."

David gave Vance a practiced, and completely insincere, smile. "Of course. I'll send you what little we have."

"Thank you," Vance said. He gave David an equally insincere smile and cut off the transmission.

"I really dislike that man," Gibbs said matter of factly.

"I never would have guessed," Vance said. His computer terminal beeped so he walked over and opened the file. "You know, for not having anything on this guy, David sure was able to send a detailed dossier rather quickly."

Gibbs stood next to Vance as they both scanned the file. His eyes narrowed when he reached a comment near the middle of the page. "Son of bitch," he said angrily. He found another detail a moment later. "Why was this guy allowed in the Israeli military?"

Vance shook his head. "They probably thought they could use his connections at some point. Make him a mole."

"His grandfather was Palestinian?" Gibbs said. He reached over to the computer keyboard and scanned further down the screen. "And his cousin on the Palestinian side was in a wing of Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood." Gibbs turned to Vance. "He got his mole alright."

"He was just working for the other side," Vance said quietly.

"Guess David didn't learn his lesson with Ari." Gibbs waved toward the computer. "Can you send that file to my phone?"

Vance smiled. "Yes, but can you open it without deleting it or sending it to everyone on your contact list?" Gibbs was known for his lack of computer skills and his new _Blackberry_ had been replaced frequently due to his habit of throwing the phone when it failed to do what he wanted.

"I'll figure it out," Gibbs said as he left the room. "What the hell is a contact list?" he said under his breath as he started down the stairs.

* * *

DiNozzo stood outside Ziva's room and glanced down the hallway in each direction. To his left, a few feet away, was a dead end with faded walls and, on the right, was a nursing station where several long corridors met. DiNozzo liked nurses. He sighed. He figured Alon was well on his way out of the country. Ziva was not a threat to him and, now that the assassination attempt had been stopped, it would be foolish to waste time coming after a member of NCIS. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Hey, McGeek, how much coffee are you drinking? It's been twenty minutes."

"I haven't eaten all day," McGee said around a mouthful of a stale vending machine sandwich.

DiNozzo's eyes roamed to the station down the hall and zeroed in on an attractive blonde nurse who was leaning against the counter talking to another nurse. "Well hurry up. I've got important stuff to do," DiNozzo said.

McGee swallowed and took a sip of coffee, then spoke. "Is she a blonde or a brunette?"

"Just hurry up," DiNozzo said.

"On my way." McGee gathered his sandwich and coffee and started toward the elevator, balancing his phone with his shoulder to his ear. "She's probably married," he added.

"She is not," DiNozzo said. "I've got radar for wedding rings."

McGee took another bite of his stale ham sandwich. "Probably gay," he mumbled with his mouth full.

"I think I know a lesbian when I see one," DiNozzo said condescendingly.

"Most lesbians don't look like the ones in your porn collection," McGee pointed out, then immediately thought of Abby and Ziva, an exception to his own generalization.

"Ha ha." DiNozzo saw the nurse preparing to leave the counter. "Just get back here." He hung up and quickly trotted toward the nursing station. "Hey there," he said as he reached the blonde nurse and gave her his most charming smile.

She turned toward him. "Can I help you?"

"Well, if you can't, nobody can." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge as he read her nametag. "Hi, Debbie. I'm Anthony DiNozzo." He flashed his badge and flashed her another smile. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo." He nodded over his shoulder. "I'm here with my colleague, Officer David."

The nurse behind the desk smiled brightly. She was pretty, but in an average sort of way, not the type to turn Tony's head. "Oh, she's the one that nice Agent McGee is with," she told Debbie.

"Is he the cute one you told me about, Lynn?" Debbie asked.

"Great guy, but don't waste your time." DiNozzo patted Debbie's shoulder. "He's gay," he whispered. "Really gay, owns every Broadway show soundtrack ever released, gay."

"Did you need something?" Debbie asked pointedly.

A third nurse approached them. She wasn't quite as attractive as Debbie, but slightly more attractive than McGee's fan Lynn. "Did you have a question?" She smiled warmly at DiNozzo.

"He's with that cute Agent McGee," Lynn said helpfully.

"Yeah, well, I had a question about Ziva's condition," he told the new nurse. He glanced at her ID badge. "Courtney, maybe you could help?"

"Sure, what do you need?" she asked.

"I was wondering about that drain thingy," DiNozzo began. "Could you explain how that works?"

Debbie and Lynn exchanged knowing glances and went back to work. Lynn began adding the night's notes to charts while Debbie went to check her patients' vitals.

Debbie went to the first room on her left to check on a young man recovering from knee surgery. She smiled at a janitor as he passed her in the hall. She didn't recognize him, but she usually worked the day shift so she wasn't concerned.

* * *

McGee was trying to finish his ham sandwich. The elevator stopped at the ground floor and he was surprised to Gibbs enter. "Boss?" He swallowed quickly and almost choked.

"Tony with Ziva?" Gibbs asked.

McGee nodded and took a gulp of coffee.

"We need to increase security around Ziva," Gibbs said. He punched the button for the second floor and held out his _Blackberry_ to McGee. "Open this thing."

"Okay." McGee's hands were full. He tried to move his sandwich to the hand with coffee but couldn't quite manage.

"Alon has family ties to one of the conservative Muslim groups in Egypt and to Palestine." Gibbs was still holding out his _Blackberry_ when the elevator door opened. He stepped out and waited as McGee exited. "It's all in here." He waved the _Blackberry_ in front of McGee.

"Just a sec," McGee said. He tried to hold his coffee cup between his teeth. "Little help?" he asked.

Gibbs grabbed McGee's sandwich and tossed it into a garbage can next to the elevator doors, then did the same with his coffee. "Vance sent the file to this thing." He held out the phone. "Well?"

"Sure," McGee said. He took the device from Gibbs and quickly opened the mailbox and then the file. "Okay, this is not good."

"Ya' think?" Gibbs asked.

"Where'd we get this?" He stopped and scanned the file, then opened an attachment whistled when he saw the contents.

"Eli David," Gibbs said. "I think it's safe to say he has some history with Alon."

"So, maybe Alon would rather get revenge than get away?" McGee asked.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Gibbs said. "Let's go." He hurried down the long hallway so quickly that McGee had to jog to catch up.

* * *

Abby was awake and leaning with her elbows on her knees when the door opened. She looked up expecting Tony or McGee and was surprised when a janitor backed into the mostly darkened room. When he turned, the first thing Abby noticed was the cast on his right hand. The second thing she noticed was he was Major Alon, and he was staring at her with more than a little malice in his eyes.

"You creep!" Abby said as she reached for her boot. She then simultaneously hit the call button and stood to her full height. "Nobody messes with my Ziva." She hurried around the bed and put herself between Ziva's bed and the intruder.

"Stupid girl." Alon gripped a knife in his left hand and rushed toward Abby, thinking he would stab the girl or snap her neck.

"Help!" Abby yelled at the top of her lungs. "Help! Tony, Tim!" She took the initiative and grabbed a water pitcher from the table next to her and hurled it at his head. It provided a split second window as he lifted his left hand to deflect it. Abby rushed toward him and kicked his cast-covered right hand, which was dangling at his side. The extra weight of her knee-high black leather lace up boots added to the impact.

Alon shrieked as he instinctively dropped the knife and cradled his broken hand. His eyes narrowed and he surged forward and grabbed for Abby's wrist as she tried to punch him. It was an awkward move because he had to use his left hand, but he was skilled enough to reach her. He did, and he screamed again, howling in pain as soon as he wrapped his hand around her wrist. He yanked his hand away from the knife blade that Abby had concealed along her forearm.

"How do you like that?" Abby asked.

He bent over as blood spurted from his palm. "You bitch!" He wanted to go for his gun, but now both hands were injured.

Abby kicked him in the knee, just as Ziva had taught her. She was not expecting the sickening crunch the joint made as it dislocated, but she continued undaunted. The next kick was to his crotch as he was splayed on the floor on his good knee while trying to balance without using the other.

Ziva opened her eyes to the commotion. Even in the near darkness, she could see Abby fighting, hand-to-hand combat, life and death fighting, with a large man. She sat up and staggered to her feet despite the flash of pain when the drain and IV pulled loose.

Alon rested his right hand on ground, using the cast to gain some sense of balance as he dug in his jacket with his bloodied left hand.

Abby stomped on the cast, then kicked the wounded hand again as he tried to yank it away. "That's for stabbing my girlfriend, you bastard!" She spun and ran back toward the bed as he screamed again. "Ziva?" Abby said. She was not expecting to see her lover out of bed. "Sit," she ordered and shoved Ziva onto the bed and out of the way as she lunged to the bedside table.

* * *

DiNozzo was writing down Courtney's phone number when Gibbs and McGee came around the corner. "Boss!" He backed away from the nurse as if she just had just come out of a leper ward. "Just checking Ziva's condition."

Gibbs walked past him without slowing. "Get phone numbers on your own time."

McGee raised both eyebrows at his friend. The question, 'what the hell were you thinking?' left unspoken.

The three men heard Abby's screams. Gibbs, though older by almost two decades, had the fastest reflexes. He had his gun drawn and was at a full sprint before the other two could move.

McGee and DiNozzo were running by the second time Abby screamed.

* * *

Ziva found herself sitting on the bed unsteadily as Abby rushed past her to the table and then spun back toward the intruder in a split second.

Alon fell backward so he was sitting on the ground. His bloody hand was almost on the grip of his gun when he felt more than saw the tall woman return. He looked up in time to see a taser targeting him.

"Don't even think it!" Abby yelled as she fired the weapon. It had been a gift from Ziva, long ago, back when Mikel Mawher had stalked her the first time. She once used it then to escape an assassin, and now she was using it to stop another.

Alon screamed as his body shook violently on the floor.

Ziva reached over and turned on a light and began laughing as soon as the scene came into full view. It hurt to laugh, but she was so proud of her lover she didn't stop.

The door burst open and Gibbs swung into the room, gun poised to kill. His eyes darted around the room in an instant, accessing each bit of information. Alon, a threat, but down and out of commission. Abby, safe and enjoying shocking the daylights out of Alon. Ziva, safe, not much worse for the wear, sitting on the bed, apparently quite amused.

Gibbs rushed forward and kicked the knife away from Alon and then moved to Abby's side. He wrapped his hand around hers on the taser while training his gun on Alon. "I've got him, Abbs."

McGee and DiNozzo came through the door together in time to see Abby's reply.

"In a minute," she said as she gripped the taser trigger tighter in the hopes of increasing the voltage. "He blew Ziva up, he blew me up, he blew Tony up, and he stabbed Ziva." She punctuated each sentence by squeezing the trigger and waving the taser in his direction trying to coax more volts out by sheer force of will.

Gibbs smiled and pulled the taster away from her. Alon was on his side groaning. Gibbs shoved the dazed man onto his back, patted him down, and found his gun.

"Knife and gun?" DiNozzo asked. "That's kinda ambitious for a guy with only one good hand," he said as he collected the weapons.

Gibbs scowled up at DiNozzo. "Probably planned to use the knife so he could kill Ziva without making any noise… as soon as her guard got sloppy and left her alone."

DiNozzo didn't bother denying the implication. He knew he'd screwed up.

Abby was at Ziva's side fusing over her. "You pulled the drain out. And your IV! What were you thinking?"

"That you were in danger," Ziva said. She was breathing in short, shallow gasps. She relented and stopped fighting Abby's roaming hands and let the taller woman move her back on the bed in a reclining position.

"He was after you," Abby pointed out.

"And you protected me." Ziva studied her lover with a new sense of wonder.

"Of course I did." Abby smiled. "I'm your close protection officer."

Ziva laughed, bending forward when the action sent pain shooting across her chest. "I guess you are."

McGee and DiNozzo half carried, half dragged a very disoriented Alon from the room. His right leg was already swollen at the dislocated knee, and the limb wouldn't hold any of his weight.

Gibbs moved closer. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Abby said. "Except my adrenaline makes me feel like I just chugged twenty Caf-Pows."

"Wasn't talkin' to you, Abbs." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Any fool can see you're better than okay." He turned to Ziva, eyeing the dislodged drain and then the small trickle of blood where the IV had been. "I was talkin' to your girlfriend."

Ziva's color hadn't returned, she was pale and her eyes were sunken, from both her injuries and from the pain of yanking her drain and IV loose. That didn't stop her from giving Gibbs a blinding smile. She nodded. "Abby's girlfriend is fine." She glanced at Abby, her smile never fading and then back to Gibbs. "Thank you for asking."

"You can thank me by getting back in that bed and having a doctor to stick that drain back where it belongs." His tone would have sounded harsh to an outsider, but both Abby and Ziva knew that was his way of showing concern.

"Let's get you under the covers," Abby said. She guided Ziva, pulling the blankets down and then tucking them back over her.

As soon as Ziva settled into place on the bed, she let out a long sigh. She was more exhausted than she would ever admit.

Debbie the nurse came into the room followed by a doctor. The doctor spoke first. "Your agent said Officer David pulled something loose." He eyed Ziva and then noticed a huge pool of blood on the tile floor. "Let me check your wounds." He rushed forward.

"Blood's not hers," Gibbs said with a smirk.

The doctor turned and gave him a curious glance.

"The man you saw being carried away?" Gibbs said. "He tried to hurt Officer David." He nodded to Ziva. "That didn't sit too well with her close protection officer." He pointed at Abby and then to the smeared blood covering much of the floor. He turned to face the doctor. "You should keep that in mind while you're putting Ziva back together."

The doctor's eyes widened and he gulped.

"He's kidding," Abby said without turning. She was busy fussing with Ziva's pillow. As the doctor came up beside her and reached for Ziva's gown, Abby added. "Mostly kidding." Her eyes met his. "Nobody hurts my Ziva."

Ziva smiled, her eyes full of mischief. "She is not above tasering a doctor."

He turned to face Abby.

"It's true. I'm really not." Abby shrugged and moved out of his way.

The doctor replaced Ziva's drain as carefully as if he were doing brain surgery on the Pope. When he was finished, he reinserted the IV and left as quickly as he could. He didn't even bother to acknowledge Agent Gibbs standing guard as he passed him on his way out of the room.

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

Ziva was bent over with both hands on her left knee to keep her balance. She was wearing her normal jogging attire, a sweatshirt, sneakers, and black sweats. As usual, there was added bulk from the gun on her ankle and the weapons in the pack around her waist. There was one added accessory, a black leather collar with steel studs and silver _Magen David_. Most Goth adornments had a French or gothic cross, or maybe an Aunk. Abby had Ziva's custom made with the symbol of her faith.

Ziva was breathing fast and hard, but it felt good to finally be back to her normal routine, well, almost back to normal.

"Okay, you're done for the day," Abby gasped as she staggered up to Ziva. They were in the park, and the air was crisp and heavy with moisture from the early morning fog that had yet to lift. Abby bent over and leaned onto Ziva's back as she sucked in gasp after gasp to catch her breath.

"One more mile," Ziva insisted, but she didn't move from her bent over stance or slow her breathing. She seemed unfazed by the added weight of Abby sprawling across her back. She stared down at the snow-covered grass and pressed a hand to her side and she tried to calm her breathing. Every breath sent a sharp pain along her ribs.

"You say that every day." Abby stood long enough to flop onto the nearby bench and groan. She and Ziva stopped at the bench each morning. "We're up to two laps. That's three miles, darlin', "Abby pointed out. "And you're running me into the ground," she added, knowing that would have the desired effect.

Ziva straightened up and then joined Abby on the bench. She tossed her arm over Abby's shoulder. "Chaton, I do not expect you to jog with me. You are not a runner." She tugged one of Abby's braids. "You are more of a stroller."

"I think I resent that." Abby snuggled against Ziva. "How is it, that even after a collapsed lung and three weeks rest, you've been able to outrun me every day the last two weeks?"

Ziva kissed Abby's cheek. "That is not true." She took her lover's hand patted it. "The first week, I couldn't even walk a mile." She squeezed Abby's hand playfully. "I seem to recall you walking me into the ground."

Abby's expression became serious. She turned and looked into Ziva's eyes. "You're recovering faster than expected." It was true. After a three week forced recovery period, Ziva's body had bounced back quickly. Only then could she resume some of her old exercise routines. She and Abby had come to the park each morning over the last two weeks, but Ziva's body wasn't snapping back the way she would have liked.

"I should be stronger," Ziva insisted.

"You were stabbed five weeks ago." Abby gave Ziva a determined scowl. "You went from walking half a mile to running three miles, in only two weeks of exercising." She held up her hand. "And the three weeks before that do not count because you weren't allowed to jog."

"I know." Ziva sighed. "But I do not see why I could not at least walk my normal route for the first three weeks." She was going out of her mind with boredom. Abby had stayed with her for most of the four days she had been hospitalized. Once Ziva was sent home, Abby returned to work. Ziva had not. Ziva did not enjoy time off if it didn't involve Abby and a soft bed. "I just want to be at my best for tomorrow," Ziva said quietly.

Abby cleared her throat. "Tomorrow, you won't need to run," she said firmly. "Tomorrow you are returning to limited duty. Limited, as in the most physical thing you get to do is lift a single piece of paper." She raised one finger and waved it in front of Ziva. "One, not two, not three. One."

"I don't think so," Ziva scoffed. "Gibbs will see that I can push my own weight and let me take a few cases."

" _Pull_ your own weight, and no, he won't." Abby was just as determined and just as stubborn as Ziva. "You're completely winded from this three-mile jog, and I know you're running way slower than you would be if you really were able to pull your weight."

Ziva gave a resigned sigh. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I can almost keep up with you." Abby smiled.

Ziva allowed a tiny smirk. "Well, that is true," she said with just the right amount of smugness to be cute but not annoying. She kissed Abby's cheek. "Are you going to continue running with me?" she asked hopefully. "I mean, now that you have adapted to the early hours…" Her lips curled into an adorably crooked smile.

"The shoes help," Abby said with a laugh. She looked down at her black sneakers and blushed. Ziva had given them to her as a surprise gift. "I cannot believe you found skeleton running shoes." They were Adidas TS Commander Skeletal sneakers, and they were made exclusively for NBA players. That is unless your name was Ziva David and people all around the globe owed you favors, then you could get a pair in your lover's shoe size. They were perfect for Abby.

"Technically, they are basketball shoes." Ziva lifted Abby's feet onto her lap. She studied the black leather sneakers and then traced the white feet bone design decorating the shoes. "I thought you would like them."

"Like 'em?" Abby shook her head. "They have all the tarsals, metatarsals and phalanges. The soles are see-through with cool black bones inside. I love them."

"I am glad." Ziva dipped her head, suddenly shy.

Abby sighed, stretching her legs across Ziva. "Getting up at the crack of dawn to run through the snow never appealed to me before," Abby admitted. "But I enjoy it. Who knew?" she added, though in truth, it was spending time with Ziva she enjoyed most.

"And who knew I would enjoy your Goth nightlife?" Ziva said with a smile.

"Our Goth nightlife," Abby said. She sat up and then tugged the leather collar around Ziva's throat. Ziva wore it during their runs simply because it made Abby smile.

"Our," Ziva corrected. She leaned forward and kissed Abby. Their lips were chilled from the crisp air but warmed as the kiss continued. Ziva had been pleasantly surprised by how much she enjoyed going with Abby to her various clubs and dancing to the deafening music. The first few visits, she watched Abby dance, but after a few weeks, Abby actually allowed Ziva to dance. It was the first exercise Abby approved. Ziva always thought that dressing in the black clothes and leather accessories would make her stand out, something Ziva hated. Instead, wearing the dark outfits and mixing in with the Goth crowd allowed Ziva to disappear in the swell of the dancers and lose herself in the pounding beat. Plus, seeing Abby's eyes sparkle as they danced was enough to put a happy spring in Ziva's step.

Abby sighed when their kiss broke. She was still holding Ziva's collar by one finger. "You make an adorable Goth," she whispered. "Though, with your reflexes and skills, you'd make a better Dominatrix. I think you should wear the collar at work."

"This collar is for you." Ziva shook her head. "My skills are for gathering information," she said. "I do not think they would be as sexy as you think." She was joking, but darkness washed over her expression.

"I was kidding," Abby said seriously. She wrapped her arm around Ziva and pulled her closer.

"I know." Ziva leaned up and kissed Abby's ear.

"Oh, how I love watching you dance." Abby ran her tongue over Ziva's lip and nipped her. "I really enjoy feeling you dance against me."

Ziva chuckled, the melodious sound bubbling up as she took Abby's hand. "I enjoy your company even when you stop to play with every squirrel on the trail and give them a five-course meal."

"I do not play with them." Abby rolled her eyes. "And I don't feed them that much."

"Oh, really?" Ziva pointed to a large oak tree a few yards away. "And just who are those little rodent vagrants?"

Abby turned her head and smiled when she saw three squirrels scampering around in the melting snow at the base of the tree. The furry creatures were looking to her expectantly. If the squirrels had tiny pens and the ability to use them, they'd be holding rodent-sized signs that read, 'will beg for peanuts.'

"Oh! It's my little team!" Abby dug into her pocket for the bag of peanuts she carried. "There's Little Gibbs and Little Tony." She scowled. "I see Little Tim, but where's Little Ziva?" She threw a handful of the nuts and the squirrels stampeded over to get them. A large female leaped from the tree and joined them, pushing the younger and smaller males out of the way. "There's Little Ziva," Abby said with a smile.

Ziva scowled. "I do not like having a rodent named after me." She crossed her arms over her chest. Her namesake squawked at the others and chased Little Tony a few feet away. "Though, she is rather exceptional," Ziva admitted. " For a rodent."

"She has to be exceptional," Abby said with a smile. "Otherwise I never would have named her after you."

Ziva felt her cheeks warming with a blush. She glanced at her lover. Abby was tattooed, she wore clothing and jewelry designed to command attention, and she was optimistic and perky. In other words, she was the exact opposite of Ziva herself. Ziva snuggled against Abby's side, and the taller woman instantly wrapped her arm around Ziva. Opposites or not, they worked.

Ziva smiled as she suddenly understood. She and Abby had a natural, easy rhythm. The two women, seemingly so different, came together and somehow they were each more than they were alone. They were like great jazz, mingling styles and instruments that seemed insane on paper, but somehow, when the music was played, the differences blended to create something incredible and unique. Ziva and Abby just fit.

"What are you thinking?" Abby asked. "You have this confused look. Is it about my little team?"

"No," Ziva whispered emotionally.

Abby leaned closer and looked into Ziva's eyes, made curious by the tone.

Ziva smiled and ran a finger over the spider web tattoo on Abby's neck. "Do you like jazz?" she asked.

Abby raised both eyebrows. "Darlin', I'm from New Orleans. If you don't live, love, and breathe jazz, they tie you up and float you down the river on the bottom of a boat."

"I enjoy this jazz music style very much." Ziva placed her head on Abby's shoulder. Ziva had eclectic tastes in music. She made a point of trying all American music. "We are jazz," Ziva whispered.

Abby was clearly confused.

"We should not match," Ziva explained. "Like American jazz, the way it mixes styles that should not work, yet they do."

Abby scrunched her brows and then a slow smile spread over her face. "Maybe that's why opposites attract. Things that should end in dissonance and chaos somehow come out perfect." She hugged Ziva and sent a thank you out to whoever sent Ziva her way. At the exact same moment, Ziva was doing the same.

* * *

After two weeks of working at her desk, Ziva needed to be back in the field. The other members of the team agreed. Ziva was practically climbing the walls. She hated being cooped up in the bullpen and tried any excuse she could think of to go with the team on cases. She was driving the entire team to the brink of madness with her constant insistence that she should to go on every call.

"Let's go," Gibbs said as he hung up the phone and stood. "We've got a dead Lieutenant on the other side of the Navy Yard next to the _USS Barry_."

McGee and Tony jumped to their feet and hurried to Gibbs' side.

Gibbs turned and looked up as Ducky joined him.

"Once more unto the breach, Jethro?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs gave a curt nod. "DiNozzo, McGee, get the car."

"Sure thing, Boss," DiNozzo said. "I'm driving," he said as he elbowed his way around McGee.

"It's my turn," McGee insisted.

DiNozzo spoke in a high-pitched singsong voice. "It's my turn," he said, mocking McGee. "This isn't a girl scout troupe, Probie. There are no turnsies."

It really wasn't worth fighting over the drive, given that they were only going half a mile across the Navy Yard to the _USS Barry_ , a museum ship. It was moored on the Anacostia River, the southern boundary of the Navy Yard.

McGee shoved DiNozzo against the wall and made it to the elevator first. He smiled triumphantly.

"Nice try, Elf-lord," DiNozzo said. He glanced at the elevator and then sprinted for the stairs.

"Hey!" McGee said as the elevator doors slid shut.

Ziva watched like a lonely puppy looking out the window of a pet store at a group of children playing in the street.

"David?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

Ziva sighed. She finally knew better than to ask to join them. "Got it," she said. "I shall cover the phones."

"Did I tell you to cover the phones?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva gave him a question glance.

"Get your gear," Gibbs said impatiently.

Ziva smiled brightly as she opened a drawer, grabbed her gun, chambered a round, and then holstered the weapon as she stood. Her backpack was in her hand and she was on her feet and at his side in a few long strides. She started toward the elevator, but his hand on her arm stopped her in place.

"Not just yet," Gibbs said cryptically.

Ziva waited, afraid he was going to tell her she couldn't go after all.

The door to the stairwell opened and Abby came stumbling out with a camera in one hand. "Did I miss it?" She scanned the room and smiled when she saw Ziva. "Yay," she said as she quickly joined the others and pushed the three into a snug group. "Gotta have a record of this," she said.

Ziva smiled shyly as Ducky wrapped his arm around her.

Abby backed away and took aim. "Ziva's first day back in the field," Abby said seriously. "Everybody say, 'felony arrest.'"

"Felony arrest," Ziva and Ducky said with tolerant smiles.

Gibbs rolled his eyes as Abby took the picture. "Can we go now?" he asked.

"Almost," Abby promised. She hurried to Gibb's side. "No injured agents." She pointed at him like she was scolding a child. "Dinner is a 6:30. Don't be too late. If anyone gets blown up or shot, no steak for you."

Gibbs raised both eyebrows.

Abby was undaunted. She turned to Ziva took her by both arms. "Don't get shot, blown up, stabbed, run over, trampled, poisoned, or maimed in any fashion."

"Yes, ma'am," Ziva answered. She was blushing from the roots of her hair down to where her cleavage peeked out of her shirt.

Gibbs nodded and cleared his throat to hurry her along.

"Okay, okay," Abby said, clearly stalling because she was worried about her lover. She took Ziva's hand and her expression became stony. "Please be careful," Abby said seriously. She leaned over and kissed Ziva's cheek.

Ziva nodded as her blush deepened.

"Is this a new pre-investigative ceremony?" Ducky asked with a wry grin. "Shall I expect a kiss when I leave for a crime scene?"

Ziva glared at Ducky with playful menace. "Talk to Palmer if you want a kiss," Ziva said. She picked up Abby's hand and kissed her knuckles. "Abigail is all mine." She spun and headed for the elevator and pushed the button. She glanced at Gibbs. "Coming?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Let's go." He looked away and when he was certain that no one could see him, he smiled briefly. He had asked them to keep their relationship away from work, and they were trying, but it was like trying to keep two powerful magnets from pulling together. When they were in the same room, their chemistry wouldn't be denied. He supposed he should just be glad they weren't making out on top of every desk in the building.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, Abby was standing in the bullpen terrified. The entire building was abuzz with the news that Gibbs' team had been in a running gun battle along the docks half a mile away. Abby paced side to side, never letting the elevator doors out of her line of sight. She saw the light above the door turn from white to red and held her breath.

Gibbs came out first. He was soaked, dripping water from head to toe. He reeked of rancid water mixed with diesel fuel and seagull droppings. He was scowling. It was his 'angry, but nothing is horribly wrong,' Gibbs face. McGee and DiNozzo followed next. They were drenched as well, and each glared at the other, silently placing blame.

Abby rushed forward. "Gibbs, what happened?"

Gibbs glared at her. "We're fine," he said gruffly. "And no, we don't want to talk about it." He shot a glare at DiNozzo and McGee, making certain they remained silent.

Ziva came out of the elevator last, completely dry, but her clothes were disheveled and her normally perfect hair was out of sorts. There was one greasy smudge on her left cheek.

Abby ran to Ziva and smacked her arm over and over. "Ziva!"

Ziva was taken aback. She stared in shock and then wisely retreated to escape her irate lover's blows. "Why are you hitting me?" She backed away until she felt her back against the wall. She changed tactics and skillfully deflected Abby's swatting hands again and again, which only angered the forensic technician even more.

"Why… didn't… you… call… me?" Abby said, punctuating each word with a swat.

"Ladies, ladies," DiNozzo said as he stopped in front of Abby. "No fighting." He eyed Abby. "I know you and Ziva are buddies now, but you can't just go smackin' her."

Ziva and Abby both stared at him, wondering if he was ever going to figure out they were much more than buddies.

DiNozzo swiped a hand across his face to remove the drips rolling between his eyes as he formulated a plan.

Abby crinkled her brow and then she studied her lover. "Why are you the only one who isn't wet?"

Ziva was still a bit angry about the slaphappy reception she had received. "Because you _ordered_ me to not get _maimed in any fashion_ ," Ziva said with a slightly biting tone. "I _assumed_ that meant I should avoid _leaping off the dock_ next to a battleship during a gun battle." She raised her eyebrows even as Abby's face paled. " _They_ appear somewhat maimed, yes?" Ziva said grouchily as she pointed at the rest of the team. "They certainly smell maimed." She crinkled her nose.

"You can't smell maimed," Abby said, then inhaled and reconsidered when a waft of rancid water hit her nostrils. Abby's eyes darted around the room. Gibbs and McGee were standing at the edge of the bullpen, watching her and Ziva. There were matching puddles at their feet. "Hmpt," Abby grumbled, the wind coming out of her angry sails.

DiNozzo wrapped one wet arm around Abby and the other around Ziva. "Okay, you two need the DiNozzo patented makeup technique." He had a lecherous grin as he waggled his eyebrows. "As the senior agent…" He quickly looked at Gibbs. "Ah, the second most senior agent, I order you two to shake hands."

Abby and Ziva locked eyes. They both remembered a time once before when DiNozzo had tried this particular technique. It had ended with him ordering the two women to share a "tongue kiss." At the time, long before they had even admitted their feelings, they had both chosen to punch him instead. Matching smirks now appeared on their faces.

Abby held out her hand and shook Ziva's extended hand.

Just as he had before, DiNozzo smiled triumphantly. "There, now don't we feel better?" He pushed the two women toward each other, just as he had in the past. "Now, hug it out," he said in a condescending tone.

They did, their embrace lasting longer than it had the last time he tried the same trick.

"Now," DiNozzo said, drawing the word out and backing up slightly because the last time he had given the next suggestion he'd ended up with matching bruises on his arms. "Big tongue kiss. Then we'll all be friends again." He smirked, loving to irritate Ziva.

Ziva and Abby paused and then both looked to Gibbs.

Gibbs seemed quite interested in DiNozzo's technique. "He is second in charge," Gibbs said with a shrug. He decided it was about time Tony figured things out.

DiNozzo's head swiveled to Gibbs and then back to Abby and Ziva so fast water flew from his hair.

"As you wish," Ziva said and then smiled politely. She put her hands behind her back and pushed up on her toes toward Abby. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips primly.

This was more than DiNozzo could have wished for. He wiggled with glee.

"Ah, no," Abby said flatly. She had no interest in a prim little peck on the lips. "That's not how I kiss." Abby cleared her throat and waited until Ziva opened her eyes. She forcefully pushed Ziva against the wall again.

DiNozzo's jaw dropped.

Abby smiled and pressed the length of her body against Ziva like a cat in heat.

DiNozzo was frozen in place, still as a statue. He figured Abby and Ziva were teasing him but wouldn't actually kiss. Still, two hot chicks rubbing against each other were like an early Christmas.

Ziva stared at Abby's lips, then her eyes went to DiNozzo. "I think she is a tease."

Abby took Ziva's jaw and held it possessively so Ziva's attention was on her alone. "Look at me, not him." She dipped her head and kissed Ziva with all of the passion her previous worrying had inspired.

"Whu…" DiNozzo's eyes shot open and he looked like he might soon have a stroke. He looked quickly to Gibbs, who sighed as if bored, then to McGee who was checking his watch. "What the?" he said when the kiss hadn't stopped after a few seconds.

"You told 'em to kiss." Gibbs spun and headed toward his desk where he kept a change of clothes.

Ziva tangled her arms around Abby forcefully, never breaking the heated kiss.

"Abby! Ziva!" DiNozzo said. "What the hell?"

Ziva lifted one leg and used it to pull Abby closer. Abby, never one to ignore an opportunity, reached down and lifted Ziva off the floor. Ziva ended up pressed to the wall with her legs wrap around Abby's waist.

"Abby?" DiNozzo rushed forward and gave Abby a poke. "Abby, put her down." He poked her harder. "Ziva, get your lips off Abby," he said, shock now hitting him full force. This was obviously not a joke. Abby, his Abby, was kissing Ziva. "That's Abby… our little Abby," he said as he tried to look away, but was too stunned.

The kiss finally broke. Ziva relaxed and her legs fell limply to the ground, but Abby held her upright. Abby stared down at Ziva and smirked. Ziva responded by raising up and nipping her lover's lip.

"What. The. Hell?" DiNozzo turned to McGee.

McGee shrugged. "Remember Dr. Allison?"

"Huh?" DiNozzo looked at McGee as if he had just sprouted two new heads, two new heads that were kissing and looked just like Abby and Ziva.

"Guess Dr. Allison was a pretty good profiler after all." McGee turned and went to get his spare clothes. He didn't mention that he was meeting the venerable woman and her JAG officer daughter for dinner.

Abby took Ziva's hand and tugged her toward the stairs. "We'll be in my lab," she said brightly.

"On a break," Ziva added, her voice husky and practically oozing sensuality.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

Ziva and Abby sighed together and released their joined hands. "Keep it out of the workplace," they said in perfect unison as they turned and faced Gibbs.

DiNozzo was crushed that he was the last of the team to find out the juicy bit of intel. He pointed from Ziva to Abby, then back to Ziva. "Just how long has this… this… this whatever this is been going on?"

Gibbs shook his head and walked over to Abby and Ziva. He was holding his clean clothes in one hand, and he raised an eyebrow as he met DiNozzo's gaze. "Your observation skills are bit rusty," he said.

"Well, I…" DiNozzo didn't have an answer.

"Look at Ziva's chest," Gibbs said pointedly.

DiNozzo's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets at the order. He looked like a golden retriever that had just been offered a tasty treat after chewing a hole in the drapery. He turned, checked Ziva's expression, which was bemused, then shifted his gaze lower. He shrugged as he enjoyed the way her top clung to her firm breasts, accenting the bit of cleavage that was showing. Plus, thanks to the kiss, Ziva's nipples were standing at attention. "Very nice. I'd give them a 9.5."

"A little higher," Gibbs said sharply.

DiNozzo tilted his head to one side, getting a better look. He nodded as he realized he hadn't given extra marks for the nipples straining against the shirt. "Yeah, maybe a 9.8?" he amended.

Gibbs walked over and slapped the back of DiNozzo's head. " _Look_ a little higher."

DiNozzo frowned at Gibbs and then turned to stare at Ziva. Her cleavage drew him in again, but he forced his gaze a few inches higher. _'Okay,'_ he thought to himself, _'she has nice skin.'_

"The Star of David," Gibbs said as if DiNozzo was three years old.

"It's gone," DiNozzo said astutely. His head whipped up and he looked Ziva in the eyes. "You never take that off. Where is it?"

"Where it always is," Ziva said with a smile. "Next to my heart.

"Aww," Abby said as she smiled and gave Ziva an adoring look.

Ziva reached over toward Abby. Abby was wearing a black studded collar choker, but a thin gold chain was visible disappearing below her shirt. Ziva lifted the chain and revealed her _Magen David_.

"Oh," DiNozzo said. The location of Ziva's treasured necklace spoke volumes. "How come you told everyone but me?" His tone made it clear that he was genuinely wounded.

"We figured it out on our own," McGee said.

"Both you and Gibbs?" DiNozzo asked.

"And Ducky," Gibbs volunteered.

"And Palmer," Abby added.

"And that bagel man on the corner," Ziva reminded her lover.

"Oh," Abby said excitedly, "don't forget the Director's secretary."

"And the Director," Abby, Ziva, and McGee said at one time.

"You guys suck," DiNozzo spun and walked away. "Both of you. You suck."

Ziva jogged to catch up with DiNozzo. She grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to an abrupt stop.

DiNozzo wasn't in the mood to chat. "You suck, Zee-vah," he said, intentionally mispronouncing her name in a way sure to irritate her.

"Only when she asks very nicely," she whispered into his ear, her hot breath warming his cheek.

DiNozzo squeezed his eyes shut. "Did not need to know that," he whispered.

Ziva's answer was a throaty laugh as she went back to Abby's side. "I'll pick up chocolate cupcakes for dessert tonight."

"I can't wait." Abby sighed. "Back to work."

Ziva nodded. "As you wish, Chaton," she said. Her eyes tracked Abby as she went to the elevator, pushed the button and entered. She smiled warmly when Abby turned and their eyes met.

Abby waved as the doors slid shut.

DiNozzo rushed to Ziva's side. "How long has this been going on?" He was angry, with equal parts protective big brother and insulted coworker. "You should have told me. I have a right to know."

Ziva turned slowly. She raised one eyebrow. "Pardon me?" she asked dangerously. "Exactly what right do you have to know about my personal relationships?" She narrowed her eyes. Anyone with any instinct for self-preservation would have stepped back.

DiNozzo stepped closer. "Every right," he said indignantly. "You're dating Abby. My Abby." He tossed his hands into the air.

Fire flashed behind Ziva's eyes. "Your Abby?" she asked with a tone usually reserved for terrorists.

That did make DiNozzo take a step back. "Well, my Abby as in _our_ Abby. Uh, the _team's_ Abby," he stammered. He ran both hands through his wet hair and flicked the water to the floor. "She's like our mascot-kid-sister-Goth-genius-Abby. You can't do that to her." He pointed at the wall, the scene of the kissing crime. "How long?" he asked again.

"It has been a while," Ziva admitted.

Tony scowled, now more hurt than angry. "I need to go change."

Ziva nodded curtly and watched him go. She went to her desk and began writing her report about the day's events. She didn't look up when Gibbs returned freshly showered and in dry clothes, nor when McGee did the same.

Later, Gibbs came over to her desk and stood, silent until she felt his presence and looked up. "Good job out there today," he said quietly. He was holding a Caf-Pow. "You kept your head and didn't take any crazy chances."

"Thank you," Ziva said slowly, not quite knowing if it was a compliment or not. There was a certain hint in his words that she usually did take crazy chances.

Gibbs read what she was thinking by the expression flashing across her features. "That's a good thing," he said. "Just listen to your girlfriend and come home safely every night."

Ziva nodded. "I will try," she said, not really knowing what else to say.

"She was scared," Gibbs told her. He allowed his affection for Ziva to show in his pale blue eyes. He even smiled. "Next time, call her."

"I will," Ziva said sincerely.

He held out the Caf-Pow. "Better than black roses," he said as he placed it on top of the report she was looking over. "Don't let that get warm," he added as he went to his own desk.

"Thank you," Ziva said shyly. She took the beverage and hurried to see her lover.

Abby was thrilled to see the Caf-Pow and even more excited to see Ziva. She took a long drink from the Caf-Pow and placed it on the counter, then spun and pulled Ziva into a fierce hug.

"I promise to call next time," Ziva said sincerely.

"I'd rather there not be a next time," Abby replied. "But a call is good." She rocked from side to side playfully, enjoying the way Ziva simply relaxed and let Abby guide her.

The door to the lab whipped opened and DiNozzo stumbled into the room. He pointed at Ziva, shaking his arm up and down, too angry to speak. He had changed from his wet clothes, but his hair was matted to his head and he still looked worse for the wear. Again, he pointed at Ziva, then to Abby, then back to Ziva. His eyes were wild and accusing. "Oh. My. God. You were the naughty rendezvous," DiNozzo yelled.

Ziva and Abby both erupted into laughter, but neither moved to break their embrace.

Abby grabbed the hair at the nape of Ziva's neck and tilted the shorter woman's head back forcefully. She leaned over and nuzzled Ziva's exposed throat as her eyes locked with Tony's. "You have no idea how naughty it really was," Abby said and then ran her tongue along Ziva's throat and then bit the tender skin beneath her jaw.

DiNozzo's mouth fell open like a trout tossed onto a boat deck. For once, he was truly speechless.

Ziva whimpered and her eyes fluttered closed.

Abby gave Ziva's hair a sharp yank. "Did I say you could make a sound?" she demanded in her best dominatrix voice. She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't burst into giggles.

Ziva shook her head. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"Ack!" DiNozzo ran for the door. "You turned Abby into a Mossad sex kitten," he yelled as he sprinted for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Ziva laughed huskily. She lifted her head and opened her eyes. "You have a cruel streak, Chaton," she whispered.

"Did I say you could talk?" Abby held Ziva's hair tightly and leaned down until her lips barely touched Ziva's.

Before they could actually kiss, they both broke into a fit of giggles. They continued gently hugging until the laughter subsided.

Abby gave Ziva a chaste kiss. "Tomorrow, you're wearing your collar to work, and I'm wearing a leash as my belt."

"His head is going to explode," Ziva said rationally, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I'm just getting started," Abby said. She stepped back and pulled Ziva over to the computer and opened a file called _'Operation Overload.'_

Ziva raised her eyes, a silent request for more information.

Abby rested both hands her hips. The action caused her short black and white skirt to slide down, revealing more of her stomach. "He made me think your hand was blown off," Abby said with a look so serious Ziva couldn't take it seriously.

Ziva began to chuckle. The sexy sound came bubbling to the surface as she moved behind Abby and hugged her.

"That can't be forgiven," Abby insisted. She smiled wickedly and turned to face Ziva. "Just wait 'til I let it slip that we were in bed naked when Anna Grabbyhands, the future Mrs. Anybody-But-DiNozzo, called to ask you for a date." She spun back around to access the computer, being careful to not break Ziva's embrace.

Ziva let out a bark of laughter. "I will tell him she wanted to ask you out as well."

Abby nodded triumphantly. "Phase two, code-named _Operation Shatner_ , involves sneaking tiny amounts of Nair into his shampoo and taking in his pants a few inches." She folded her arms over Ziva's, enjoying the feel of the shorter woman pressed to her back. "Let him think he's going bald and getting fat for a while before we begin phase three."

"He does not stand a chance," Ziva whispered as she pulled Abby closer.

"Nope," Abby agreed. She twisted back around and took Ziva's face in her hands and then guided her into a kiss. When it broke, Abby's eyes were full of mischief. "How do you feel about letting Tony catch us in the bullpen?"

"Why would he care if we were in the…" Ziva tilted her head gave a wicked, smutty grin. "We promised Gibbs…"

Abby sighed in defeat. "I know, but that was just my first choice." She ran her hand along Ziva's cheek and then rubbed her thumb over Ziva's bottom lip. "You know how Tony is totally in love with his car?"

Ziva nodded, distracted by Abby's thumb.

"Ever since I saw him with that hand in a bloody evidence bag, when I hear the elevator, that's all I can think about." Abby's eyes were drawn to Ziva's mouth. Ziva was using the tip of her tongue to wet her lips, and she was touching Abby's thumb with each pass. "I… ah, want him to think of us every time he goes to that car."

Ziva nipped Abby's thumb. "Other than providing him with an erotic memory, what purpose would that serve?"

Abby wrapped her other hand behind Ziva's neck. "That's what makes this plan so diabolical," she said with a smile. "It's no secret Tony is attracted to you."

Ziva shifted and looked into Abby's eyes.

"Come on," Abby said. "Anyone with eyes is attracted to you. Plus Tony can be a total man-whore."

"Okay," Ziva said in a confused tone. "How does your plan achieve the revenge you seek?"

Abby laughed. It was a smoky, sensual sound, and it made Ziva want to leave for a long lunch at the Savoy Suites.

Abby leaned down to Ziva's ear. "Tony thinks of me as a sister," she whispered huskily, knowing exactly what her tone was doing to Ziva.

"Um hmm," Ziva replied. She tilted her head so her face pressed against Abby's. Her skin tingled where they touched.

"So, every time he goes to his beloved car, he is going to picture me, his _little sister Abby_ in a naughty schoolgirl outfit, bent over the hood of that car, and you, _hot sexy Ziva,_ wearing those butch cargo pants, pressed against me from behind with your hand up my extremely short skirt."

Ziva groaned. "Are you trying to torture him, or me?" She spun Abby and bent her over the surface of the desk. She pressed her body onto Abby's back and her hand slid down her lover's leg and then teased her inner thigh. "That imaging is now driving me crazy. We promised Gibbs to keep this out of NCIS."

Abby swallowed with a gulp. She inhaled with a gasp as Ziva's hand moved further under the hem of her skirt. She was getting worked up and knew she should make Ziva move. The problem was, she really wanted Ziva to move, or rather, she really wanted Ziva to move her hand… a few inches higher. She drew in a breath through her clenched teeth and reached over to grab the edge of the counter. "Oh my God. That feels so good." Her skin felt like it was about to ignite.

"Yes, it does feel good, Chaton," Ziva agreed. Her hand was dangerously close to the edge of Abby's underwear. She stretched, using her free hand to lift Abby's shirt higher. She rubbed her cheek across the small of Abby's back. "You are a bad influence," she whispered and then gently bit Abby's hip.

Abby hissed and arched her back, and Ziva bit her again.

"I know you like this," Ziva whispered as she slid her hand between Abby's legs.

"Ziva…" Abby said in a hoarse whisper.

Ziva laughed huskily and used her foot to spread Abby's legs like she was a suspect in a very naughty crime. "I think I am enjoying making you a little crazy," she said as she pressed her thigh between Abby's legs. Ziva's hand was teasing Abby. She wouldn't actually ravage Abby while at NCIS. She promised Gibbs she wouldn't. "I will make you wait until tonight to finish our little game," Ziva teased.

Abby groaned and gripped the edge of the desk and rested her forehead on the cool surface. "Not fair," she whispered.

The door opened and DiNozzo backed into the room using his shoulders to push the door because he was carrying a Caf-pow in one hand a Ziva's favorite coffee in the other, a peace offering. "Hey Zee, I'm trying to be okay with you dating…" He spun and promptly dropped both beverages "…my Abby." He squeezed his eyes closed and spun. "Damn it, David. That's my little Abby you're defiling on the desk!"

Both women jumped apart and blushed. It was one thing to stage a scene to torment Tony. It was quite another to have him walk in during an actual intimate moment.

"Have you never heard of knocking?" Ziva said as she felt her blush darken.

"It's the lab. There shouldn't be any X-rated activity going on," DiNozzo said without turning around. "Besides, no one knocks."

"Well, he does have a point," Abby agreed.

"Yeah," DiNozzo said indignantly. He turned his head for a brief instant, making certain they were engaged in strictly G-rated activities. He sighed and turned to face them. "Okay, you have corrupted her," he said as he pointed at Ziva.

"Hey," Abby said. "I'm perfectly capable of corrupting her." She stomped her foot, highly insulted.

Ziva nodded to Tony as if in surrender. "We promise you will not walk in on anything more than a PG-13 activity _in the NCIS building_ ever again," she said as she shot Abby a smutty smile and winked.

"Okay then," DiNozzo said as he puffed his chest out. "That's more like it. Though I think you should keep it G-rated." He turned and headed for the door, side-stepping to miss the commingled coffee and Caf-pow. "I'm not cleaning that up," he said as he opened the door and left.

"So, about Tony's car?" Ziva asked as she took Abby's hand. "How difficult will it be to time things so that Tony finds us and not Gibbs?"

"Not a problem," Abby said as she ran her hand through Ziva's hair. "I have a plan all worked out. I have a color-coded flow chart and everything."

Ziva leaned forward and rested her face on Abby's chest. "Of course you do," she said before breaking into a fit of very non-spylike giggles.


End file.
